Lust For A Koopaling
by Treacle Parcheesi
Summary: Now showing in Dark Land Adult Theater. Gloryholes now in all bathroom stalls.
1. Narcissistic Bastard

**This chapter contains adult situations and junk. Porn, basically. Please be advised.**

**It was also inspired by DeviantARTist and friend Demented Windmills' work, the namesake of this chapter, "Narcissistic Bastard". The subject is Ludwig and his animated reflection in a tight embrace. It's a very compelling, erotic work I highly recommend visiting.**

**I'd also like to make a shoutout to CosmicKitten89. She has also explored the possible sexual motivations behind Ludwig's narcissism in her story Happy Time for the Koopalings.**

**Now, please read, enjoy, wipe up after yourself, and review. ;)**

* * *

I chase Lemmy and Iggy out of the laboratory. Normally I don't mind them romping around in there as my legion of robot maids tidy up any broken glass, messed-up archive drawers or renegade anthrax bacteria that my brothers leave behind.

Today is a very important day, you see. A few years back I collected tissue samples from my own body and injected the concentrated DNA into what I call a glass egg. A glass egg contains everything necessary to produce a living being, but the finished article is nothing more than a particularly expensive organ bank. That's what I was originally developing; a method of obtaining organs for life-saving transplants for a much less cruel yet just as lucrative a market as the black market. I succeeded. However, I have still faced a lot of ethical snags along the way. The articles do have regular pulse and breathe oxygen, but they have no souls. Or in more scientific terms, which I must say I am more comfortable with, their brains form no neocortex or amygdalae. I personally x-ray the heads of the articles before harvesting the merchandise. There's just not enough nerves and tissue for them to ever be fully conscious. They don't feel anything. Not hunger, nor thirst, nor cold, neither do they long for companionship, or discriminate night from day. The controversy was sparked upon discovery that their eyes form images. Why, of course they do; how else am I supposed to know if their corneas can be utilized for keratoplasty? The articles don't know what they're seeing, if what they see scare or amuse them. It's impossible.

To a scientist life is so much more than a beating heart.

The articles have saved hundreds of lives throughout the galaxy, unfortunately I haven't made much of a profit, seeing as import of the organs produced in my laboratories is strictly forbidden, thank you very much, Toad Council.

As I was saying I did produce an article from my own DNA, just in case I would ever need a liver or kidney. I cleared away all the other vitro tanks, apart from the one containing my DNA and went over to focus on updating the Troop's artillery. One day, however, as I went into the sterile part of the lab I realized something was different. The vitro tank, that usually clicks and hums as it performs its self-maintenance and article feeding procedures was dead silent. Also, all the chlorophyllic liquid had been drained. And the article? Well...

"I went through your drawers," a voice says. It's my own. But it doesn't belong to me. "I hope you don't mind."

It's the article. And he... is talking. I almost drop my beakers. Not so much on behalf of his speech ability, but... How magnificent he is. His soft, glossy hair is a shining royal blue, his scales are like gold coins in the sun, and his vicious eyes lay claim to my soul. He has a heavenly blush too, which matches the thin velvet bathrobe he has borrowed from my closet.

"Well, um," I stutter. No one has ever made me stutter before; _I_ always look down on _them_! "Wh-what's mine is yours."

"Charmed," my carbon copy says.

"What's your name?" I ask. My throat is dry, and now my palms are sweaty, also, my heart is palpitating. I know what's going on. I am deeply, deeply infatuated with the stunning creature in front of me.

"Hmm... The tag on my tube says "XY-039", but, um..." He approaches me, and whispers into my ear: "Why don't you be Ludwig, and I'll be... Ludwig?" His gentle breath feels like a caress on my ear and surrounding coiffure.

I nod. "That sounds so right to me." Then I remember something.

"Oh, my, since you're out of the vitro tank there are some tests I need to perform." I take his large soft hand in my own and direct him to the examination bay.

"Take off any clothing and sit down here," I say and wave my hand towards the padded bench. If that's not a comfy piece of furniture I don't know what is.

"Oh, doctor," Ludwig says with a concerned pout. "These tests... Will they hurt?"

"Of course they will not," I grump as I put on a pair of neoprene gloves. "See these? I am a scientific mastermind. These hands cannot cause discomfort."

This reassures him and he lets the velvet slide off his plump, yet muscular body. I almost swoon at the sight of what he was hiding underneath his borrowed feathers, and both wonder and hope it's for me.

I take my time inspecting his lovely frame. It's hard not to linger in certain areas or drown myself in his gorgeous dark eyes. "You certainly turned out perfect," I tell him as he exits my painless and silent MRI machine. He has the same amount of brain matter, lobes and nerves as I have. He's not an article. He's a perfect clone.

"Oh, Doctor Koopa," he says, once again frightened. "I know what it is you plan to do. But I don't want to be killed so you can harvest my organs."

For a moment I feel as soft-hearted a those liberal hippies who used to picket mine this evil fortress of science. But only for a moment - the moment I let my guard down, the clone trips me with his sculpted leg, grabs my arms with his exquisite hands and before I know it I have soft poseys around my wrists and find myself standing on my knees strapped to the MRI-machine's gurney.

"You are so gorgeous," he says as he tears the labcoat off me. Darn; and that the custom one; my favorite... "I have spent all my time watching you."

"You have?" I ask. I know I should probably try to wriggle my way out of the restraints, but...

"Yes. I achieved sentience on my 182nd day of gestation. But I couldn't move, or speak until all my motor skills had developed, and the artificial amniotic had drained."

"But you weren't supposed to develop motor skills! You're nothing but a glorified organ bank in a life-supporting wrapper! A lovely wrapper, but still..."

Ludwig the clone just smirks and slaps my bare tail. "Don't you understand anything, _Mr. Scientist_?" he says wryly. "I'm the other half of your bloated narcissistic ego that couldn't fit in the mortal body we were issued. So I had to wait in the Overwhere until a vessel to my liking was produced. I thought it would never happen and that I had to wait for you in that marshmallowy prison camp forever. I'm so happy and grateful."

He raises a cruel eyebrow at me though. "You, my ambitious friend, still need to be taught a lesson."

"What lesson?" I don't have to wait for an answer. A sharp pain rushes from my tail and seat and surges through my body. I do believe my clone just caned me with my own pointer. It's clear that this is not meant as actual punishment. I know what he wants...

I gasp. "Put that down! That's a tool of education!"

"_You're _a tool of education, Ludwig." He gives me another lick of the cane, harder this time. The mad grin on his god-like face widens. Droplets of sweat form on both our foreheads.

"You're a bad clone!" I rebuke. "Open these poseys and go back to your tank!"

The lick that follows is just below my pain threshold. Thing is, it's not that unpleasant at all. My celestial twin seems to enjoy it very much. I feel him caressing my very private parts with the plastic rod and the anticipation makes me afraid to breathe.

"Hmm..." he uses my achilles tendons as a cane rest and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'd say you could use a thorough physical yourself." I watch him gleefully strap on a pair of neoprene gloves. I'm allergic to latex, and so he must be, too.

"Why?" I ask as he approaches.

"Hmmm..." His hands gently palpates my tail and the ginger touch is a great contrast to the caning I received. My scales are still incredibly sore from it. "Oh, wow, look at that." He's referring to what's dangling between my parted legs. "Given the rigor of the cartilage and blood volume centered here I'd say you've been neglecting your most primal instincts and basic physical needs for a very long time. Ludwig, why have you not sought satisfaction?"

My good old haughtiness returns. "I am a Koopa of science, clone. A genius such as me does not have such common and coarse urges."

Ludwig laughs viciously. "From the look of _this _thing of yours I'd say they do. Big time." He tilts his head, a testament to classical beauty. "Tell me, Ludwig..." His grip around my ever-growing erection becomes a little tighter. "Whose sweet virgin holes do you long to plow through with this bulbous love hammer of yours?"

I try to shake my head, but he's keeping it mashed into the pillow. "No one's," I lie. "Just a stress reaction..."

"Liar!" Ludwig hisses. "We're two halves. When you abbreviate your sentences, you're lying. I know it. Now, tell me."

"...No...!" I whimper. He's so powerful and handsome I feel like a worm. I have never taken part in physical exchanges. I once stood outside King Dad's bedchamber and heard him roar the satisfaction of his primitive desires. The crack in his door was just the right size - I saw everything. And it got me curious. That's all it was; honest! Curiousity.

"Tell me..." Ludwig teases. His voice is dangerous and soft, and he's resting the cane against my throbbing testes.

"It's..." I turn away. "Iggy."

Ludwig's face turns dark, but his eyes encourage me to go on. "He... He loves it when I... explore him, and he's old enough to... But he always says no when I ask for... He says that 'touching is the wrong thing to do' and that 'we should only love each other in our hearts and not inside our bodies'."

"Your own _brother_..." My clone curls his snout in well-rehearsed disgust. "You understand how wrong that is, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I'm a filthy Koopa." I look at him, thinking I might as well come clean as I don't yet know his upcoming plans for me. "I'm so narcissistic I could never love anyone of a different blood. And my brother is an untouched beauty."

My clone is heating a splash of aloe vera gel by rubbing it between his hands. "But you would _ne-e-e-ver_ break his beauty, would you? Take it from him and watch him cry?"

"Oh, no... How could that be enjoyable for anyone?" I hesitate. "But I really want him... And he's getting more and more delicious for every day that goes by."

Ludwig wraps his gloved and lubed-up hands around my thighs. "You don't have to deprive yourself of nightly pleasures a second more, Ludwig."

Cold and hot shivers race through my body as he begins massaging the area he wants to penetrate.

"No, not that..." I beg as he positions himself. "Please..."

"You still don't get it, do you?" He purrs. "We're two halves, like I said. What pleasures me will pleasure you. And vice versa."

I have no choice but to relax as he enters me. My luscious mane is damp with sweat after a few thrusts, that's how incredible this is. Ludwig is snarling at me; obviously struggling to postpone the climax that's tugging on his nerve endings. How black is his love magic? Although I'm the one peing penetrated, I feel as if I'm also performing, and my skin tells me it's on my sweet love. And he's loving it... Never wanting it to stop!

"Please," I beg. "No more!" One mortal being can't contain all this delicious pleasure. As I scream into the provided pillow I'm biting down on, Ludwig swears gutturally in ten different languages and I can feel him exploding inside me. Oh, it's _so _good...! It makes my own explosion last longer and my arms tremble. He pulls out his tall one and a stream of his warm DNA is expelled from my pulsating hole. I see it reflected in the glass walls and feel it running down my testes before contributing to the literal gene pool I made on the leather upholstery. Mmm... Who doesn't _love _leather upholstery?

Ludwig holds my face up by my chin. "Open your filthy mouth," he snarls. I want to rebel, but my other and so natural appetites run the show right now. I barely part my lips and place the tip of my tongue in the collar of his manhood, and taste the pearlescent bead that collects in it. He's breathing heavily. Carbon Ludwig probably contains the piece of the magnificent puzzle that's me, that knows the nature of certain desires well.

I wish someone could have painted this scene. Ludwig is sitting with either knee on either side of my face, scraping the tip of his flesh against my tongue and lips before lowering himself completely over me, slowly. I feel a gleeful rush greater than accomplished by any chemical when I realize what he's about to do and happily allows his shaft into my mouth, all the way to my throat. Ohh, all the different temperatures, moisture levels and textures against such a sensitive organ... No wonder this activity is valued so much by my peers.

From my anatomy studies I know which parts of the male body is sensitive to erotic stimulation. I moisten two of my fingers with the sweat from Ludwig's tail and insert them into his hole. It's a common misconception that the orifices of sexually active persons become loose and limp, when the opposite is true - they become firmer and more elastic, just like any other musculature that is exercised regularly.

Carbon Ludwig is groaning with his lips sealed around my shaft, and I massage his prostate with longer, firmer strokes. Whatever he feels, I can feel too. This pleasure is not of this world and it scares me just as much as it delights.

"Don't stop..." he mumbles. "Ludwig, please..." It's his turn to be desperate. With three of my longest fingers rubbing his prostate and my mouth in a vacuum, he beings panting and then releases a jet of pressurized Koopa-cream down my esophagus. It fills my mouth as well and tastes so sweet and delicious. I sup on it while also greatly enjoying my own slow-burning, pulsating ejaculation down Ludwig's lying throat. Dark spots dance before my eyes and I'm too befuddled to make screams of pleasure. This is beyond that.

"See?" Ludwig says as his breath slows down. It's still trembling. "Not all circles are bad..."

"I'd like another round," I reply and lick the last of his juices off my fingers . "But I insist we do it somewhere a little more suitable."

My bedroom will have to do, and I'm glad I tidied it up yesterday. I pull off the covers for Ludwig, and I lie down next to him. He immediately embraces me, pulling me close. I must be as irresistible to him as he is to me and it sure feels good to be desirable. We're Koopas. We're all narcissistic bastards. And I haven't done a lick of work to deserve this precious gift. That's the way it should be in my book. Rather them than me, right?

"I've never felt this connected to anyone else," I admit as Ludwig kisses my feet. It tickles and when he runs his tongue over my manicured claws my head jolts. "I thought I couldn't. That the price of loving oneself as much as I do was unbearable loneliness."

"Ludwig..." Ludwig puts my foot back down and slides over me. His lovely rounded stomach is heavy on mine and I hope and pray he will crush me, destroy me with his weight. That his, mine, beauty will be my death and complete destruction. "Connections are so important. Our day together has proven that to you, hasn't it?"

"Yes," I whisper and close my eyes slowly as he kisses my neck. "It certainly has."

"I have learned a thing or two as well, sweetness," he says softly and draws wet circles all over my neck and jawline. I caress his hair and pull on it from time to time, the way I know he likes it. "But I already know that loving yourself beyond compare has a steep price."

I nod, feeling despondent, yet so happy he knows what I'm talking about. "No one understands how awesome it is to love yourself..."

"...And those who do will never admit it." Ludwig pouts. "Darling, I'm not comfortable with my sweet precious love living in a world like this. I want to take you with me."

"Where?" I ask.

"Somewhere our love will be celebrated as the beautiful thing it is."

Oh, my. His lies are even sweeter than mine.

"Yes..." I whisper, and I feel him getting hard again against my thighs.

I never go a day without working on my scientific endeavors. Luckily for me the necessary subject is present today after years and years of searching for the finest possible specimen. Ludwig's lower back is carefully propped up with a lot of pillows. Don't be fooled; he's a lot more flexible than he looks.

His eyes are ablaze with lust. Taking things slow at first is however the key in passion shared between males, as stress and impatience can cause pain and injuries, even. Ludwig parts his legs and hold them out to either side by the knees. "Like this, _Mr. Scientist_?"

"Yes, subject," I reply. "If my theory is correct we will both experience extreme levels of pleasure if I penetrate you from this angle." I wear a glove while lubricating him as we both enjoy how genuine the feeling of neoprene against our scales makes the fantasy. "We'll begin the tests when you feel ready."

"I feel very ready, doctor," Ludwig purrs.

I aim my throbbing education tool at the glistening pink opening. I wonder if my hypothesis would have had a different outcome had I used a rubber instead, or for both our sakes, a resin. But Ludwig is so relaxed I find it ultimately unnecessary.

"Will this work make the world a better place?" He teases as I pick up the pace. Once again, I begin to sweat.

"We'll teach the world to love...!" I growl at him. The pillows make the thrusts bounce, and it helps me go deeper. Pre-ejaculate splashes from the tip of his big, veiny appendage and down on his plastron. His cheeks are shiny and rosy.

"Fuck me harder, Mr. Scientist!" He grabs onto the bedposts and thrusts against me. His testes are swollen with his fluids and so engorged now they cushion my impact. His moans are lo-o-o-o-ng; hoarse and pitiful. "I'm such a lucky Koopa," he wheezes. "Love and passion are both taking turns pounding my ass!"

"Please let me come!" I shudder from lust as my body can't contain the delight anymore. The dark power of erotic pleasure makes me forget all about the formalities.

"Nuh-uh..." He is teasing me.

"I can't... hold... it..."

"I will punish you," Ludwig warns and wags his fingers. This is the point of no return for me, and I'm glad to see he's sharing this sentiment. I release it all into him, ride him like a hot, electric wind. I know very well it's scientifically impossible, but it feels as if I'm gushing liters upon liters of my juices. Watching Ludwig spraying cum is delightful; the testes look like a small hydraulic pump inside the skin and every time they contract more of his liquid seed lands on his own chest. Immediately upon helping him coil out of his almost upside-down position I begin licking it off. It soothes my sore throat.

I screamed quite loudly, you know.

"I have to punish you now, _Mr. Scientist_..." He mumbles and reaches for the pointer as we swap mouthfulls of each other's hot cum. I can _hardly _wait...

Later as the sun sets we are nestled up, kissing and cuddling. Ludwig is just as ticklish as me.

"I have never been this happy," I half say, half whisper. I'm experiencing deep bliss and equal exhaustion. We have made love eleven times in four hours. I conclude, from field and laboratory endeavors, that sex feels good. It is indeed a remarkable discovery.

"Me neither, despite living in heaven." He rolls over on his side, putting a hand on my shell. "Ludwig, the vessel you have created for me is too unstable. By the end of this day I will be forced to leave it and return to the Overthere."

"What?" I ask. How can this be?

"Don't worry," he says with a soft smile. "Tomorrow this body will be gone, but if you gather some of the plentiful DNA we have left in these bedsheets, you can create a new one for me. And I'll return to it the second it's ready, once a year until your time has come, and we will meet by the pink apple tree..." He kisses the despondent look right off my face. "And we'll make love on the cloud for ten thousand pleasure-filled years."

The image is beautiful. And he's not lying this time.

"But... What shall I do while I'm waiting?"

Ludwig has an answer to this as well, and that makes me happy again. "Return to the Vitro Project, liberal hippies be damned. Save lives in secret like you used to." He gently strokes a few stray hairs away from my forehead before pecking it. "That's the price of our sweet narcissism, Ludwig."

* * *

The tape reaches its end and I turn the television off. Yes, I did record my day with my celestial twin. I'm a scientist and as such I document everything. Ludwig will return to me today. It's only a matter seconds.

The door to my bedroom opens, and as the sleek velvet robe slides off the Koopa's portly body he also extends his trusted telescope pointer. And before he shuts the door I conceal a giddy smile with my purple-gloved hand.

**FIN**


	2. I Have You Now part I

**This was going to be a three-parter and the main story line, but I was advised into making it into its own story. And I will, once the New Story page loads properly again. Until then this chapter will remain here. ^^  
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* * *

What a blind fool I've been. I also feel that I deserve this fate, even though the one to my head really hurt.

Oh, how terribly rude of me to just ramble on. Of course, you don't know everything that's happened. There was a time when I didn't, either. Now it's crystal clear, and ready to be shared with the world around me. I can also see, understand, and greatly appreciate your ravenous hunger for a piece of it. Well, then. Let's skip the toast and get right to the good stuff...

* * *

The beauty in front of me has chosen to open up in full bloom. Still shy, it rolls over on its side, and I have to climb up on the ledge to get a better shot of its lovely petals.

Leave me alone, its soft, innocent voice mutters. Its eyes however, beg me to make it part of my collection. Struggling and protesting are all part of its courtship behavior, I assure you.

"Ludwig, why do you have to take all these pictures?" Iggy closes his robe, refusing to reveal himself. I snarl, just a little.

"We've been over this, dear. King Dad requested that I move you here so I can focus solely on my work with you."

My beloved isn't stupid. He always seeks answers... But I don't always give him truth. Or ever.

"But why all the pictures?"

"You know what a perfectionist he is. He demands that I document every step of your recovery. and I agree with him, especially in these budget times."

The camera is the latest model, of course, and shoots without a sound. Iggy doesn't respond well to clicking noises.

He also follows every word his father the King says. This is in everyone's best interest.

"Undress," I command, keeping my voice soft, yet authoritative. My sweet love obeys. I set the camera to "record" as he begins to move his lithe body on the velvet sheets. My collection of Ignatius' romping is ever growing. One day I will have brought my love to the paradise we're building together. And these memories will be the walls of our fortress, the windows of our castle, and the magnificence of our palace. Of course there are other reasons I insist on recording Iggy's provocative behavior, by the way. Which have much less to do with spiritual things, as you may imagine.

I don't warm up the cherry skin oil before pouring it on his scales. This is to hear the gasp; crisp and intoxicating like the bubbles of a priceless magnum. It is followed by many after-gasps of anticipation when he feels my weight on the bed.

I have an in-house team of world-renowned masseurs and skin care specialists, as well as physical therapists, two physicians and an on-call nurse, but I prefer to administer Iggy's afternoon massage myself. After all, the blood which circulation is stimulated by the most caring touch is my own. It makes it all the more special. Let's just ignore, for now, the fact that the only reason Iggy is really putting up with this may, just may, have been the smidge of morphine on the cut-up fruits he had for dessert. Not enough to make him drowsy, just a tinsy bit more compliant. Too bad no chemical I have administered has ever made him more willing.

His tail is so lean and strong you could bounce a coin on it. I tried that once. Big laughs. I make him sit on his knees, then lean forwards into the pillow pile. He frowns; all just to tease me.

The oil is made by pharmaceutical artisans of Real World Italy. Florence, to be exact, where we occasionally spend the summer, and is approved for, even encouraged, use as lubricant. It is very mild on sensitive skin and locks in moisture.

It also has a warming effect, which I know Iggy finds very arousing.

It doesn't take long for his body to become physically ready for intimate contact. But to this date that's all it's ever been.

"No," he says as I prepare to penetrate him. Primal desires of the weak flesh are taking over. The sensations these bring are comparable in beauty to Iggy's glamorous insanity. But he always refuses me, and his voice, although sometimes slurred from the phone book list of hypnotic drugs he is on, is always clear as crystal on this.

"Oh, Iggy," I tut. "But we love each other, don't we?" I rub his thighs some more. "So very much?"

"Not with our bodies, Ludwig. Not with our ..."

I have to correct this lapse in decorum. "What did you call me?"

Iggy dives into the pillows, knowing what is coming. "I... I..."

"How dare you use my full first name in our private sphere?" I raise my voice, not much, just enough to silence my beloved.

"I apologize... Luddi," Iggy whimpers. "Please to excuse me."

He just lies there, completely submissive, and the scent of Japanese spring lies about him like a veil of innocence. I forgive him. I always do. For those times when I don't feel like it much he employs his secret weapon. I smile viciously as he prepares to this time.

No Koopa is an island.

* * *

I glare at Hardshell. He's my age; too bad he has no experience with the Real World market. If he did I'd have promoted him by now. I guess I have to utilize my identity as an educator once more...

"Well, the Northern Europeans are very big on healthy living. Do you know what an "antioxidant" is, Mr. Hardshell?"

Boom Boom Hardshell is an educated Koopa, but not a particularly cunning one. "It's a chemical that keeps the cells healthy..."

"It's a buzzword, and highly marketable one at that. It's part of what makes the _Dr. Wolfie_ \- line so successful in the European markets."

_Dr. Wolfie_ is a line of health foods named after a very famous and successful Real World scientist. His name and handsome face has ensured my food and beverage company the best target groups in the world; children, and women aged 18-49. They write him letters all the time, and he has several online fan forums. What does he himself think of all this fame? That's not my concern. I'm too busy counting coin bags.

"It's time to expand the line," Miss Kittenberg says. She's one of the company's more promising executives. "We've already covered fresh, juiced and canned. How about frozen?"

"Ugh, I am so sick of hearing about _Frozen_!" Koover, the chief marketing officer groans. "I still have cartons of lunchboxes backing up file cabinets! Singed ones!"

"What a lovely idea," I say. Because Koover is such a big shot, I can't whack him over the head with a rolled-up copy of Nintendoof Power without any repercussions. That's the only lamentable thing about the wealthier parts of Europe - their damn unions.

After the meeting I escort the team down from the business floor and into the foyer, which is where mine and Iggy's living quarters begin. The fountain and palm trees help keeping the air clean. As do the large, crystal clear windows, with their breathtaking view of the Alpine foothills.

I have cut Ignatius off from the rest of the outside world so successfully he doesn't appear to miss his personal freedom, or people he used to know, at least not anymore. He now associates only with a limited number of people, all of which have passed strict screenings and tests. I keep everything related to my company and business far away from him. But today the meeting took longer than usual and my schedule was staggered. Iggy's was not.

Iggy has just exercised and been bathed, and is enjoying a peach mango health shake seated so elegantly on a wicker recliner next to a veritable forest of well-maintained, pesticide-free jungle orchids. Both beauties are my pride and joy. The Koopa nurse standing three feet away, in a Chanel nurse's uniform, takes notes. I am too busy to notice that Mr. Boom Boom has noticed my sweet beloved. I don't blame him for that; who wouldn't notice beauty out of this world? Even if unseen by the eye, Iggy's splendor can be felt with every sense, as well as senses Koopakind has yet to fully understand. He sits there in his immaculate, trailing kimono in yellow silk. But the scent of a strange Koopa alarms him. He puts his drink down, and scoots to the edge of his seat.

"Good afternoon," Boom Boom says politely, and very gently takes Iggy's hand by his manicured fingers and kisses them. In this light Ignatius' scales are like porcelain. "I am Boom Boom. Pleased to meet you...?"

Iggy is clearly frightened. He whimpers very softly, but he can't withdraw into his shell as his spikes are capped. "I'm... I'm Iggy."

"Charmed." Boom Boom's voice is warm. He somehow manages to tear his own off Iggy's beautiful, large blue eyes.

"It's a lovely day we're having, isn't it?"

Iggy nods. He actually nods at a complete stranger who dares to talk to him! As if my beloved were a regular Koopa and not a creature of heavenly delight forged by an army of Nimbis.

"Have you seen the snow on the Alps this year? Like a loaf of sugar. Gorgeous."

I signal to Iggy's lifeguards that they resolve this situation. And they do by reminding my dearest that he has a home schooling session in ten minutes and needs to prepare himself. I don't notice Boom Boom's eyes lingering on Iggy.

"What a charming creature," Boom Boom says. Just seeing my dear, dear Iggy and hearing his sweet voice has obviously taken away the toll of a trying day at work. Ignatius has that effect on everybody. "I didn't know you had a roommate, Master Ludwig."

"He's my student," I correct, because that is, well, correct. "He spends time here because of the hot, humid summers in his homeland. He has many special needs, and his father is an old and wealthy friend of my family. This is my return of a favor he once did me."

I scarcely even noticed this Koopa as I rushed him out of my house.

That was a lamentable mistake.

* * *

Iggy's apartment is by far the most luxurious part of the chateau and may be the single most opulent living quarters in all of Switzerland. It is round and brass bars make up an enclosure which extends into my private library. Genuine vines grow from clandestine indoor beds and up the bars, and serve as humidifiers. It contains a study area, a, open cubicle for Iggy to work on his drawings and poems, and his roomy, airy boudoir, tastefully decorated with Louis XVI-furniture in creams and golds.

Goomba maids are decorating the library for the holiday season. I'm seated in my armchair while a Toad girl is tending the fire in the massive marble fireplace, which I had carved for Iggy's coming of age. My half of this apartment is quite noticably more masculine as I chose leather and mahogany. A large oil painting of Iggy adorns the dark green wallpaper, and is surrounded by candles. For the longest time this painting was a substitute for the wonders of having my love this close to me at all times. Now it's a reminder of how life can suddenly change for the better. And although I am now in possession of the genuine article, I often get an irresistible need to pleasure myself while staring at that painting. It has always comforted me...

My darling's chair is a smaller version, of course placed next to mine. But he is not seated in it. He is standing by the boudoir's window, gazing out on a group of winter-clad Koopas and Goombas ice skating on the lake. He grabs the curtains. One sees him and waves at him; an invitation to join in on the fun. Iggy shakes his gorgeous head and turns away, heading over to me. He doesn't talk; he knows better than to interrupt me while I'm making the lives of my minions extra miserable at only the stroke of a pen. Finishing my scotch I signal a guard to open the gate.

Iggy sits down very gracefully, just like I taught him, in his chair. "Apparently you alienated another professor today," I say. It's hard to contain my pride.

Iggy is certainly educated privately. The problem is that he outgrows his tutors at an alarming pace. Sometimes before he can finish reading their calling cards. His brilliance is of course promising and will one day benefit the whole world. Still I try to contain it, for the moment, lest he become understimulated and begins hurting himself again.

He says nothing. Just sits on my knee and sends me longing looks. Then he leans back, and kisses my snout.

It's so soft...

Us beginning to kiss is the servants' cue to leave. A Beanish chambermaid did so once with disgust on her face. I fired her, of course. Personally.

"What's on your beautiful mind this evening, Ignatius?" I ask. Before an answer I receive a plethora of kisses, each sweetly flavored.

"Luddi," Iggy half-whispers. "I want it to be just you and me forever."

O, my! The last time he pulled this one he pushed me into a closet and made a dash for the cookhouse. The chateau's cookhouse entrances and exits are usually heavily trafficked by our chefs and kitchen aides, even at night, thus never locked. He almost made it to the village's train station before his bodyguards caught him. Since then I've had to put out guards by every first floor door. I didn't want this. It adds an element of resentment in our relationship as Iggy hates consuming his meals in his chamber, much preferring the dining room where the garden be seen from the windows. And I don't want to restrict his movement more than what's necessary. This is our home, not his prison.

Last June I realized that my beloved's progress had stagnated and that he was at a very high risk of a suicide attempt. So, rather than bundling him up and locking him down in the castle's padded cell I made him put on a fine robe and take a walk with me on the palace grounds while the maids prepared lunch for us.

After passing the area with the koi ponds and fountains we entered the flower garden. Iggy had his ikebana tools in his obi, and sat down in the grass with the roses and hollyhock he had carefully picked. Each specimen was flawless, but the way he arranged them was less promising.

I carried a pitcher of water over to him. "It's coming along wonderfully," I praised. "You love the garden, don't you?"

Iggy has tears streaking his face. They fall from his eyes and down on the flowers, making them sparkle in the sunlight. "Luddi," he whimpers. "I want to leave here. I want to go home."

Never has my patience with my one and only waned. Unlike hollyhock it doesn't wilt.

"Ignatius, dear," I said, sitting down next to him. "You _are _home."

"No, I'm not!" He is cross, but his eyes remain fixed on the syringe I have conjured. Iggy himself doesn't have access to any magic... "If I were," he stuttered and started backing away from me, "Lemmy, King Dad, and... and all my friends would be here. My house had a lake by it..." Iggy has a lump in his throat which sounds quite painful. "There's no lake here, Ludwig. No lake..."

As he was a work in early progress back then, these incidents were normal and to be expected. I can take a lot. All that is necessary for Iggy is to remember that any rebellion is rewarded with excruciating pain. It's that simple, really.

"I hope you do," I mutter into his soft, fluffy hair, before grabbing him by the nape and dragging him close, and saying much less tenderly: "Because I was offered a hundred million coins for your hand in marriage by a very rich and powerful Koopa. He is really strong as well, and he _will _love you with his body. I guarantee you that. He will. Even..." and I make sure he gets this; "if you don't want to."

I have never wasted my time insulting his intelligence with empty threats. That is why the fear on Iggy's face is real.

You see, Iggy is the wet dream of a lot of shady individuals. And the more money someone has, the shadier they can afford to be. Ever since I presented Ignatius to a very particular and elite group of underground characters and their, well, certain lifestyles, I have been offered more gold and jewels for one night with my darling love than I thought existed in the world. And that's saying something, is it not?

Iggy whimpers in complete shock. "Oh, Luddi... Am I really to be sold? Oh, no..."

I look at him, face like stone, eyes very stern.

"No... You can't... Please, no..."

Before he can break down, I speak again. "I would never do that, Iggy. Because..." I caress his very pale cheek. "Because I too feel that we belong together. Forever and ever."

"Really?" Iggy is so relieved. "Thank you..."

Some express gratitude by sending a card or making a lovely meal. My beloved puts way more consideration into it. He stands up in front of the roaring fire, and looks at me with those impudent blues. They sparkle ever so playfully. He removes his robe, but does he let it fall to the ground? Oh, no... The coral red robe is hung over a chair. The light from the fireplace is enough to make his scales shimmer... But not enough to keep him warm.

"Come here, darling..." I say, arms open.

He stands before me, legs on either side of my knees. He's kissing my neck, just like I've taught him.

"That's amazing, baby. Amazing..."

His sweetly scented, soft hair tickles my cheeks, and my neck as he works himself downward.

Dare I hope he's about to do what I think he's about to do? I lean back, at least. My stomach jars in delight as it feels Iggy's divine tongue drawing circles on it. "Can I have some more?" He asks, as if for more dessert.

"Of course," I mutter.

My sweet darling bends at the waist. It's incredible to watch.

And oh, how tenacious he is.

"If I didn't know better I'd... oh... think you've been... wanting to do this for some time..." I don't want to close my eyes, but I have to, because a mortal can only comprehend so much divine pleasure. My testes swell up with man liquid with has been stored up for quite some time. Iggy sees it and kisses them, humbly and fondly. These are now the testes which decide his fate, and he treats them like the objects of worship they are.

Iggy is too busy to answer me, and his eyes, heavy with both everlasting love and an everlasting pharmaceutical high, tell me that his pretty little head is busy elsewhere. My entire body is jolting with electric lust. My love's smile is evil, and he has absolutely no gag reflex. I'm smiling too, as I realize I'm climaxing. Iggy suckles it as if it were, well, a sucker. I roar. A streak of Koopa cream runs down the side of his mouth, and down his neck, otherwise, everything is reverentially consumed. What a perfectly wonderful, erotic moment!

I hold him for a long time afterwards. "Thank you," I say, "for giving me that."

Iggy is napping with his head on my clavicle. I breathe in the sweet scent of him.

My sweet love. You are mine forever...


	3. I Have You Now part II

**Yes, part II. I had wanted to make this into a separate story, but the new story publishing thing is still not working, besides, limiting the smut to a single story is much better. There you have it. That's all I have to say on the matter, so please enjoy the chapter. It won't disappoint!**

* * *

The clouds has made the Swiss winter mild and ripe with lots of snow. But now, the moon and the stars is using the castle garden's pond as their mirror, and the unexpected cold has necessitated all the fireplaces to be on fulls service. The temperature in Iggy's quarters are still not adequate, which is why I have let him spend the night in my bedchamber.

While I prepare my presentation of the _Dr. Wolfie's _frozen health food line for my upcoming business trip, Iggy is leaning over the footboard of my four poster, watching an erotic feature on the 120 inch flatscreen. I let him watch pornographic films as it soothes him. Why is a mystery to me. Some would probably argue that it's to be expected from a Koopa Iggy's age. Still I peek at the screen. An attractive Royal Koopa lady I recognize as adult film superstar Coquette Koopa is being penetrated by two gentlekoopas at once, while a supporting actress vigorously rubs both the leading lady's mons pubis and her own, bristling nipple. Miss Coquette climaxes, and the vocal expression of her satisfaction sounds genuine. Seminal fluid from both lovers escape her body cavities and is consumed by both females.

Iggy is enthralled as the next scene begins, but I've decided he's had enough. "My dear, why do you watch that smut? Those people don't love each other. Come here..." I tug on the blanket to pull him closer, and he crawls up next to me.

"Do you even know what it feels like to be penetrated?" I ask him. My love's eyes sparkle deviously behind his large glasses.

"Not by _you_," he says teasingly.

I laugh. "Oh, _you_..."

With the fireplace roaring in the background we kiss tenderly. Iggy lies on his back, arms out, soft, fragrant hair splayed over the pillows.

"Ignatius," I mutter in-between the delivery of sloppy kisses to his exquisite neck. "I'm gonna be away this holiday season. The presentation of the food line will take place in Berlin instead."

Iggy sighs in disappointment. "But... you promised me we would have time to spend Christmas together..."

"I know, my darling, which is why we need to take advantage of the time we have left. In fact..." I sit up and reach for the controller to the ceiling TV. "I have a Christmas gift idea for you."

Iggy is clearly enjoying the feeling of my kisses drying on his skin. "And what is that?"

I press "play". "That you watch some of my favorite features with me."

Well-bred as he is, my sweet little flower agrees. This pleases me. "What is it about then?"

It has been the only erotic film I've ever enjoyed, because it's not a strictly pornographic feature, it's a video diary of a wealthy Royal Koopa, much like myself, whose penchants and exotic sexual tendencies were also centered around, and aimed, at what most decent societies would deem an inapproprate target; a male one year his junior, who happened to share a male life giver. The journal records his two-year project of preparing his beloved for a long life together filled with nothing but bliss and pleasure. It's my inspiration, of course, and has been an invaluable resource.

I like the look on Iggy's face as one of the film's plentiful depictions of sexual contact; consensual, of course, begins. I love those, too. I have pictured the two characters as Iggy and I so many times I literally see us whenever I play this video.

"Are we in class now, Luddi?" Ignatius asks. "Will this be on the test?"

"We don't have to do what the couple are doing, honey," I reassure him. "Tonight all you have to do is watch the video. And I will pleasure you."

The "Iggy" in the video is treating "Ludwig" to an impressive act of fellatio. My beloved's blowjobs are still occasionally hesitant as he's a little fearful, but I find that very endearing, indeed. It proves he's untouched.

The pair on the screen begin an hour-long penetrative love session. I start stroking Iggy's testes. His following erection is marvellous; like a fern sprouting in fast-forward. He moans as I collect a drop of pre-ejaculate from the head of his flesh, and draw a wet line down its shaft.

The Iggy on the screen reinforces his loving master by dragging out his moans of pleasure. His orifice is flexible enough to accept both the whole shaft. I doubt if my darling will be...

The feature ends with the couple in a warm embrace. "Ludwig" says: "Don't concern yourself with the opinions of our decadent society. Just love..."

I turn the screen off. "So... A little better than _The Ultimate Coquette Collection_, isn't it?"

My love nods his sweet head.

"What do you think, Ignatius?" I ask.

"Hmm..." He's resting his hand on my stomach. "I think... We should _enjoy ourselves_ before you leave on your trip. Yeah. That's what I think."

My heart is racing. "Whoa, really?"

I should have shared this video with him sooner...

"Yes. Time is a terrible thing to waste, after all."

* * *

It is necessary for me to take a few deep breaths before calling Iggy to me. He has exercised and taken a longer shower, and I watch him now as he rubs his legs with a big, fluffy towel with my monogram and blue shell embroidered on it.

I'm gonna go ahead and choose to believe that my beloved has never given another access to his lovely body. He asks me:

"Have _you _ever loved someone with your body before?"

Only in this setting would I allow him to question my decisions.

"I never wanted to go against your choice not to go steady with me. So for a while I did search for love in the wrong places."

My darling looks forlorn as he lies down next to me. "You know I love you with my heart, Luddi. I always have. The reason why we haven't done anything with our bodies is because... I went on the internet and asked some people if it was a good idea."

"What happened then, honey?" I play with the silk belt on his robe.

"Well... It was _so _surprising." His eyes widen in actual puzzlement. "They all called you a sick, narcissistic bastard and that I should call the police and escape to the battered spouse center."

"I see," is my response. Of course I already knew this; don't you think I carefully monitor my sweet's internet time? Don't worry. I tracked the slime through their IP addresses and gave them what they had coming. As soon as the cops find the bodies and Iggy's laptop they'll have a case. That possibility has about a 0.3% likelihood of ever happening.

Iggy sits up on his knees, then leans forward; anticipating his daily massage. Which I happily administer, as always, but this time with an oil with the scent of tropical flowers; a scent more suitable for a night of pleasure than the innocent sakura oil. Ignatius sure loves it.

As I rub his hips I let a small drop of oil run down his tail and over his opening, which is almost indiscernible from the rest of the skin, apart from a small patch of skin that in itself looks like a precious cherry blossom. Even I find this simile quite interesting.

What does not look like a flower is my manhood, which the beautiful visions and sensations has help grow to immense proportions. I don't think it's possible for it to become more saturated or erect... Or throbbing with unspeakable lust.

"Just do it," Iggy says in his sweet, evil voice. "I'm ready now. I want you..."

A surprising amount of pre-ejaculate pours out the head of my cock, which makes both us lovebirds smile.

"Yeah..." A moan escape me as I become one with my beloved. Iggy responds with a guttural sigh as I hold on to his tail to enter deeper. His entrance is very muscular, but not flexible enough to accept the entirety of my cock. It's still incredible.

"Aaahh!" Iggy does not attempt to contain his response. My thrusts, growing more powerful by the second, are met with his gyrating ass.

"The whore likes it," I snarl.

"Mmhmm," Iggy smiles viciously and nods.

"Does the whore want more?"

"Yeah," my beloved sighs.

Although he's too tight for me to penetrate all the way, my man sack is engorged enough to produce the only music sweet enough to satisfy even my pompous ears; the sound of my testes, soaked in pre-cum, slapping against my sweet love's asshole.

I let go of his tail and let my hand wander until it finds his cock. I choose to give the hand job and the fucking a dissonant rhythm, which suits my unpredictable sweetheart perfectly, as you may imagine.

"It's so good," Iggy groans pitifully, clawing the bedspread. All brilliance of thought and ideas have been abandoned in favor of pure, primal lust. "More! Ludwig, I want more!"

Leaning over I bite his hip, then I flip him over, preparing him for my favorite position. Iggy is very flexible, still I fear that he's not yet ready for this kind of entry, as it's immensely good when performed right - and dangerous if done wrong. You know from my past... experiences... That I know how to do it right. And I never do anything wrong, so...

Sweat is pouring down my torso and basically gives Iggy a bath as I enter him again. The best part about this position is seeing his gorgeous, pale face blushing, and his cock rising as my flesh scrapes against his delight-producing prostate. This organ is twice as sensitive in Koopas as in Humans, which goes a long way to explain why male same-sex relations aren't at all frowned upon in our society. Females indulging in them, however, remains a pornographic phenomenon. Don't worry. Double standards give the great unwashed something to whine about as the aristocracy screws them over.

"Ahh..." I allow him to see just how much this pleases me. "Ahh, fuck, yeah... Ohh, Iggy... what a sweet little ass you have!"

Thrilled, he almost giggles. "But your enormous Behemoth of a cock is ever so much sweeter," he says, breathing heavily. He's about to reach the first climax I'm allowing him in some time. I close my eyes and my eyelids twitch. An angel was sucking me off couldn't possibly be as wonderful as this.

"Luddi," Iggy begs, caressing his own bag.

"Not now, sweetie," I say oh-so-lovingly.

"Aahhh! I can't... hold it...!"

Neither can I. But not until the massive volume of pearly white Ludwig-essence expands his honey cave and is very forcefully expelled, running down his stomach, do I signal he can finally evacuate his testes. Ohh, his climax enhances mine; it's as if my entire being now consists of tiny, fucking, climaxing couples. Iggy's nectar is even whiter than mine; creamy and smooth. It's quite likely what the immortals feed upon in Paradise. My roars are loud; I didn't know I was capable of such primitive noises. I sound like my father the time I walked in on him fucking Queen Koopa in the living room. He didn't see me, but I sure as hell saw him.

Iggy's moans, while masculine, are more gleeful and light-hearted. As I slow down and space out my thrusts, Iggy replaces his vocalizations with giggles, and then contended sighs. After I separate my body from his I use the head of my massive cock to spread the last drops of cum over his sack like clotted cream on a muffin. This is responded to with a purring noise deep in his throat.

Fearing he will get cold I bury us under my large comforter. "So... Our first time, huh?" I give him a kiss.

"Mmm..." Iggy's large, dreamy eyes are losing. "It was... fantastic, Luddi. It was great... It was..."

He's asleep, so I just kiss his neck once more and finish the sentence for him. "It was _me_."

* * *

One of the reasons I waited so long to make Iggy mine forever is because I thought him no longer being untouched would change how I felt about him. That, like someone else I used to love who cheated on me. But Iggy has never been touched by anyone but me. And actually having sex regularly has enriched our lives and become a natural part of our relationship.

It is also yet another thing Iggy excels at. Occasionally I let him penetrate me as well. Not as much to create balance than because he's so good at it my mind is blown every time he fucks me. I want to scream whenever he makes me splooge. But of course I can't. That would make our bond too equal. Knowing each other to often would also do this. Therefore we have sex for one hour on Wednesdays and Fridays only. We will find Paradise one day. That has been foretold onto me.

When he loves me I can only make moderate groans and say "Not bad, sweetie" when we're done, while I would rather roar like a lion and then nestle up in his arms like a kitten.

The time has come for me to leave. It's December 6th. Iggy wear silk slippers and a long celeste and power blue silk robe. I make him wear these robes to hide his body and what's meant for my eyes only. His bodyguards will watch him closely.

"My sweet," I say, as he refuses to let my arm go. "My colleagues are waiting for me outside."

"I don't want you to go. I can't be without you for 21 days." His fluffy mane of luscious green hair brushes against my snout. It's hard to fathom not being able to draw in the scent of that lovely head for so long.

"It's alright, because I will call you every now and then to keep up with your progress. You will receive excellent care in the meantime. Would you like me to bring you something from Europe?"

Iggy shakes his head. "Just yourself, safe and sound. And diamonds."

"You shall have both," I say. It's Christmas. A time to spoil your loved ones.

The moment he lets go of my arm Ignatius' bodyguard show up, casting a shadow over him. The burly extremity is an incredible contrast to Iggy's delicate, dainty shoulder; one my darling love does not appreciate.

"Remember, honey, that you are a prince and should act like one." I say.

"Yes, Luddi," Iggy nods.

"Don't tear off anyone's faces and mount them on mannequins while I'm gone."

"I won't, Luddi," he says deviously.

Oh, I don't believe _that_!

He follows me out on the porch, closely watched by his caregiver. The beautiful white snow makes him look like a living star. I almost cry in the limousine next to my colleagues.

It's gonna be so hard not to have that star lighting my way.


	4. I Have You Now part III

**Yes, there _will_ be more than three parts. But given the response this story's been getting, I don't think we'll have a problem ~**

* * *

Dutiful as always, Iggy heads to the chateau's hydrotherapy room for his morning exercise. His workout routine encompasses a series of interval exercises. First, yoga to get the blood flowing and oxygen to his demented brain, then the treadmill to maintain his endorphin level and flow, lastly, swimming, as it is perfect for strengthening ones' muscles without overloading the joints and bones. Also it aids digestion.

"You get faster every day," his personal trainer says. "I think you're ready for a more intense workout very soon. Maybe when spring comes."

Wednesday is also spa day, so Iggy is placed in a lounge chair with toe separators on his feet. He starts going through his studies for while I'm gone. Nothing big, just a few geometry books to keep him occupied. Besides, I'm going to need his help designing my new symphony. Yes, symphony. I've worked so hard these last five years in the world of business to accumulate a fortune vast enough to very comfortably support Iggy and me. Now I have, and can cut back on my hours as a food additive designer and spend more time making and playing music. Just imagine Iggy in my dark romance plays...

"So... Interesting book?" His new bodyguard asks. Iggy looks at him, completely baffled. Bodyguards are _never _supposed to actually talk to their charges. Surely, he thinks, a massive brain hemorrhage must have prompted this unimaginable lapse in professionalism.

"It's... on squares and triangles," he says, just in case the words "trapeze" and "pi" will scramble his bodyguard's simple brain.

"Oh. So... Are those... necessary to know about?"

Iggy sends him a cold glare. "Only if you like living in a house and drive a car."

"That I do." He sits down closer to Iggy. "Very much."

Talking to strangers is very upsetting to Iggy, who only ever makes conversation with me. He looks closer at the gentlekoopa in front of him. And it begins to dawn on him...

"Mr. Boom Boom?" he mutters, completely shocked. "But... but _you _work for Luddi. You don't live here!"

"I know," Boom Boom replies. "This is gonna sound weird... after I first met you, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I wanted to see you again. But when I called and asked Master Ludwig if you liked the movies, he went ballistic and sort of... fired me. Over the phone."

Ignatius doesn't buy this at all. "You're a liar! Luddi... He did sell me to a rich Koopa after all...! I've displeased him! Oh, no..."

He gets up and tries to escape the spa, however, his silk slippers don't allow him to get very far. Boom Boom had hoped he didn't have to do what he does now, grabbing my beloved and administering some sedative. Iggy goes limp, but not unconscious...

Boom Boom put the exhausted Iggy in his habitat, shuddering at the surroundings; a gilded cage, used by the castle's proprietor to imprison a loved one. and as if that wasn't bad enough, something in Iggy's private bookcase caught his eye. It was a leather-bound ring binder, reading "_I Have You Now_". It was the only book standing out as the rest were mostly math books and books on gardening. How ironic, he thought; the only book to catch his eye was the most drab one, as the others are so colorful.

He opened it. It contained copies of EEG prints, scans of "Koopa, Ignatius H." signed by a "Doktor Vorkian", and a karyotype, probably also Iggy's. The book looked like a medical record until Boom Boom happened upon the only document to be in a plastic sleeve. It read:

"This DOCUMENT, notarized, ratified and endorsed by Our Hag of Petalburg COURTHOUSE, ensures and puts into effect the transfer of legal guardianship of KOOPA, Ignatius Hop, previously held by BIOLOGICAL FATHER KOOPA, Bowser to VON KOOPA, Ludwig." Iggy must have been a minor at the time, judging by the date and the fact that his signature was nowhere to be found.

Boom Boom turned the page, and could feel, by the weight of the sleeve, that it held more than one page. He parted the sides of the sleeve, pulling out a document he at first believed to be a diploma because of the decorative borders which looked like they were done in genuine gold leaf.

It wasn't a diploma. It's headline read "Contract of Life Management", and read:

"This CONTRACT ensures that upon agreeing and signing in red and blue ink, the WARD will receive the most exquisite care, an excellent private education and a fellowship in a profession best suited their needs and educational level for no less than 99 YEARs, 11 MONTHs, and 30 DAYs. The following clauses are attached to these offers: Complete management of CONTRACT HOLDER's time, and submission to unquestioned authority held over CONTRACT HOLDER by CONTRACT PROVIDER."

Iggy had signed the dastardly contract in blue, then his initials in red, and the date. He had lived by the rules set by Ludwig, who obviously wasn't the type to waste time, for a long time. Without seeing his father, who Boom Boom knew missed him very much, his brothers, and all his friends. He had done some research on what had happened. Apparently Iggy had been through a very difficult time, and afterwards didn't know what to do with his life when Ludwig suggested he come to live and work with him at his Real World castle. King Koopa, wanting only the best for his Koopalings and agreeing that Iggy needed both fresh air and a change of scenery, signed the papers provided. Without reading the fine print. And since he had no idea where Ludwig's chateau was, as it's not on any map, Bowser hadn't seen or heard from Iggy in almost three years. He was in utter shambles due to Ludwig's favorite method of punishing those who denied him things: psychological torture.

Boom Boom had been sent by the Koopa King to get Iggy home. He was the Troops' best spy and had spent time in the Swiss chateau disguised as maid, cook, corporate suit in Ludwig's company, but hadn't managed to gain access to Iggy. Until now. Unfortunately he hadn't counted on falling in love with the one he was sent to rescue. Then again his previous contracts had been unveiling fraud and embezzlement. Nothing like this. This was infinitely more dangerous than any of his previous jobs. He knew he would either succeed, or lose his life. And kneecaps.

* * *

Big shots like me and my colleagues may be easily pictured in a big luxury jet, right? I always insist we take the trains. It's an efficient and way more environmentally sound way of travelling.

Taking a break from invention and science has offered me a window to cause chaos and mayhem on a wretched planet... Without its suckers for inhabitants even noticing before it's too late. Don't call me a bastard. This is a sentiment I share wth each and every one in this luxury car.

While marketing officers Nastasia and Koover are diligently preparing a Powerpoint presentation for the convention's wine and cheese reception, I watch as team consultant Frankie Pianta flirts with Miss Kittenberg, my assistant. Frankie is tall, burly and always dressed to kill. He's also married. To a daughter of a mob boss. Not that it matters. Miss Kittenberg is a warhead; deadly in careless hands.

The lush, green scenery is so soothing to look at as we pass it by. It makes my mind wander, and suddenly I'm Iggy's age again. Legally an adult, but so innocent and pure. Laugh all you want...

I'm in the chemistry lab of Frankenstein University. This is a very prestigious school, you know. It has everything and covers many scientific schools of study - chemistry, physics, mathematics, medicine, asskicking, and astronomy. Most who graduate go on to having very successful careers, unfortunately, this place was also cursed a couple of centuries ago by an embittered dean. The more brilliant the student, the more insane they will end up once their educations have helped them get rich and successful. I really liked the sound of _this _chain of reaction, which is why I enrolled here. The headmaster of a competing university was so disappointed when I rejected their scholarship he threw himself, heartbroken, into a pit of Bungee Piranhas. So tragic.

My professor, Dr. Putricius carefully inspects my accomplishments for the day. "So, Mr. Koopa, would you say that the execution of your hypothesis yielded the expected results?"

"Not at all, sir," I reply. "I had not foreseen the possibility that a mixture of 25% Goomba sweat to 30% distilled water and 45 percent old lady perfume would make a person's hair pink with red tips." Because I'm disappointed, and because the other students have left, I'm bold enough to add, "And I'm still confused as to how I'm gonnna change lives with this chemical."

Dr. Putricius looks at me, and his dark eyes glitter behind safety goggles. He's a very classy Royal Koopa who later inspired my hairstyle, except his is a deep, shiny tyrian purple, streaked with silver here and there. He's tall and svelte without being scrawny, and moves with a lot of dignity.

"It _will _change the life of Professor Zhourphuzs when we put it in her shampoo." He puts down the glass beaker and approaches me. "I think that would be a rather fascinating experiment, don't you?"

The thought makes me snicker, then turn serious again. "It won't hurt her, will it? Or... be permanent?"

My entire body sighs and shudders as I'm being embraced from behind, and then feel Putricius' strong hands as they undo the clasps of my pure white labcoat.

"Of course not, darling dear," he whispers. His voice is so refined and warm - it feels like it's caressing my ears. "I could never hurt anyone... permanently."

I lean my head on the counter, feeling his smooth claws brush against my stomach and finding my proudly erect tall one, I let out a long, almost tortured moan of pleasure as he gives me an old-fashioned with a remarkable skill.

"There, now," he purrs. "Not too loud. Someone could hear us."

I can tell, from his slow, guttural breath and how his cock is rock hard against my ass, that I'm in for a bigger treat. But for now professor Putricius' voice is still calm, despite his growling breaths.

"You're the most brilliant student I ever had, Luddi," he says softly. "Mmm... and I just love witnessing your great _potential_."

I smile gratefully. "You are great, too."

My sweetness is irresistible to him, so Putricius lubricates me quite thoroughly with a chap stick before I feel him entering me and making me a whole person. It doesn't hurt, but every inch of a massive member such as that of my professor can surely be felt. We have a special bond which I can't deny... And no one else, if they knew, and then if they understood. But I don't need any witness to our commitment to each other. I feel so safe putting my entire life in his unholy hands.

The edges of his labcoat tap against my legs as he begins moving. "Tell me, my dear student," professor Putricius growls into my ear. I love that I'm capable of making him pant. "Because this will be on the test."

The rhythm of his thrusts are irregular, allowing him to control my release. "Yes, sir?" I respond coquettishly.

"What is a "plethora"?

I think back to my notebook, sweat running down my forehead and dripping on the counter.

"An expulsion of a significant amount of bodily fluids... Not necessarily... blood..."

"Correct. Now... Will anyone fuck your tight little ass as good as I do?"

Because my answer is satisfactory, my teacher increases both velocity and force. I can hear on his groans that he is seconds away from climaxing, but professor Putricius never allows himself to come before me.

It's an out of body experience, since it's been a while since the last time we made love. For a few moments I see myself from outside, making faces devoid of intelligence and dignity, but full of sinful pleasure and primal satisfaction. The deep, very manly voice of my dear, dear Putricius is such an irresistible contrast to mine, which is softer; completely submissive.

It only with a blissful smile I realize that Putricius has not climaxed yet. So the moment our bodies are separated, I sit down on my knees, taking his bulbous, pulsating cock in my hand, rubbing its royally purple head against my tongue. Almost unable to believe this magnificent hammer was satisfying me, and only me, two minutes ago I feel Putricius' hands stroke my hair so tenderly. Mmm, it tastes so good... I have one hand around the burly shaft, the nails on the other gingerly stroking the hairs on his bag. It's so heavy, and I want what's inside...

My mouth works fast and eagerly. The professor has taught me so well. I become one with the deliciously juicy blowjob until Putricius explodes in my throat. I can tell that he would love to lean his head back in relief, but that way he would miss the sight of me sucking down the pint of cum he endowed into my mouth. Afterwards I sit there, letting him forever preseve the memory of my beauty, complete with drops of cum in my hair.

"A+," he says so lovingly. I feel so loved and at ease. What a gorgeous pair of madkoopas we are!

* * *

It's not as if this was the only time. Or first. Or tenth. This is how I was introduced to the Gilded Cage Society. A beautiful place, even by my standards. I'm hesitant to call it a "club" as you can't buy your way in. It's a very elite group for couples such as Putricius and I.

Tonight there's a formal dinner at the headquarters. I curl up in a lounge chair as a Goomba maid passes us with a big tray of hors d'oeuvres. Only a couple others accept her offer of bacon stuffed mushrooms. We Darlings need to watch our figures. It's in the contract. I was actually at Iggy's current level, almost thinner. But I'm not as tall as him, making a refined, slender figure more difficult to maintain. I fashioned Iggy's diet after the very same Putricius set up for me. My food was a lot leaner. I want to tell him that every time he frowns at his carefully balanced meals. Iggy's ears were not meant to be subjected to bitter words...

"Friends," the Head Admin says as we sit at our tables, "I wish to make a toast to our society, our Admins, our Darlings... And to the fact that all the goals you couples made have been reached. Excellent work!"

You may want to know more about the Society. This is how it works. If you're male, a koopa, have a crime-free record, come from a privileged background, have a high level of education, reasonable to look at, have a kind heart towards everyone, and a preferance for members of the same sex, you may get an invitation to a formal tea sometime after you turn 35. It's a dream come true. You see, the Society have contacts in all major companies and markets. If you're one of them you'll find that they can make your road to success a lot smoother. If your beloved signs their venerable Contract of Life Management and later prove themselves capable of fulfilling its duties and clauses, as well as the rules and goals set by the head of their relationship, called Admin, they are also accepted into the society as Darlings; submissives to their Admins. All Darlings must be of legal age and give their consent to gain access to certain privileges. For me it was the best university for budding mad scientists. To keep my Admin, professior Putricius, pleased, I have to work so hard. But it's an honor to fulfill the Contract. Especially since my dearest is so invested in my success. The role of Darling may seem demeaning and cruel to you outsiders. _Au contraire_. As a Darling you would be the light of your Admin's life. The centerpiece of their accomplishments. We are submissives, but not inferiors. Putricius has told me so many times what he would do if I ever left him. How can I help believing him?

To my surprise I am interrupted just as I'm about to enjoy the Darling entree; green salad and vegan curds with baked pine nuts. The Head Admin comes to my table with his beloved.

"Koopa Darling," he says to me. I rise and lower my head like the high-quality arm candy I've been educated to be.

"You're the newest addition to our perfect society," Head Admin says tenderly as both me and my dearest Admin is taken to the red carpet podium. I pout; not sure what to make of compliments from someone whose name is not on the Contract. "Yet you have accomplished the most since our last soiree. You've aced all the assignments, tests and projects the Frankenstein faculty assigned to you. You discovered how to make a bitchy teacher's hair cotton candy pink, and your beautiful feet won first prize the International Fetish Awards." He puts his hands on my shoulders, but Putricius fires him a pretty venomous glare. Head Admin takes a few steps back. "Now, now, we're all a big happy corporate family here," he says.

"Ludwig, you win an additional prize this month for being so... wonderful." Head Admin is clearly taking a shine to me. His Darling does not appreciate that, and clings to his arm, making Head Admin look as if he's wearing one wide sleeve in exquisitely embroidered silk.

"You are wonderful. The ideal Darling. And we all know what that means."

I'm so proud of myself I could cry, but that would make my guyliner bleed. The other Admins reach into their leather briefcases while their Darlings circle around me, removing my floor-length kimono and leaving me bare. Wearing clothes is not necessary for Koopas as our skin is thick, among other reasons. But I've become so used to it in the Real World I suddenly feel naked, for the first time in my life.

The Darlings, still dressed in their finery, poosh essential oils all over me before opening the curtain behind the red carpet podium, where The Egg is.

The Egg is an elevated marble bed, shaped like a bowl, large enough for a couple. It was built with magic, I'm told - if anyone but a Darling lithe and dainty tried to snuggle up in it, it's glass base, thin as the stem of a champagne coupe would snap off, and the rest surely be destroyed. It's just a rumor, still I think about my five week long celery and cucumber diet to gather the necessary confidence to lay down in The Egg.

The many velvet pillows are cool against my skin. Have I told you my little secret? That the sensation of velvet triggers in me lust and desire you can't even imagine. I smile at the others as they circle around The Egg, and turn my loving gaze towards Putricius, who is ever so proud of me. Then I blush as the great leaders stroke my body very gingerly with Cape Feathers. This is the ultimate reward and from what I understand, the greatest honor the Admins of the Gilded Cage Society can bestow upon a Darling. I've been present at one of these occasions, but didn't witnessed it, as the other Darling are made to wait for their Admins in the lounge area during the different ceremonies.

The feathers all fell different. Some are gentle, yet sincere. A few are hesitant, as if being allowed to touch me is too good to be true. Others are a little rough, and you can imagine that what they're thinking about doing with me has nothing to do with hesitation.

The magic of the lovely feathers remove the sorrows from my very core. Thanks to it I don't have to think. At all. Not about inventing stuff... Or anything. See? So pulling my knees to my chin I raise my tail and my lovely tight little ass.

"See that?" One of the admins say.

"Sweet fuck..." another one says in complete awe.

Someone has climbed up into the nest. It's Putricius, of course. He's greasing my ass up, a little rougher than he normally does; I guess the ritual has set him ablaze like it has me.

His giant cock is so engorged it fills me up and stimulates my prostate so deliciously all I can think of is a magic scepter. My lover's breath is snarling, and I'm overjoyed. I don't care that we are being watched as we make love.

"Let our friends see your lovely sex face," I hear my beloved's voice say, and I obediently lift my head from the pillows. "That's it, baby..." he praises, and I look at the other Admins. Through a veil of flaming lust I see that they are very tenderly pleasuring each other, while their eyes remain on me, Ludwig von Koopa. The Koopa Darling.

If I could have one wish then and there it would be that this moment would last until morning. Normally I'm quite good at controlling my climaxes, but tonight nothing controls my body and soul but fiery lust. The same is true for my dear professor, as he comes the moment I do. The orgasm is like a violent earthquake, shattering the solid inner ground and flooding my entire nervous and sensory system with demented pleasure. I release a funnel-shaped jet of hot Koopa creme and giggling at the funny name I made for it, manage to spray the ten closest Admins with thick droplets of creamy white. They don't mind that. At all.

Nor do they mind watching my lover separating his body from mine, or carefully inspecting my gaping, semen-drenched hole. Putricius massages my still swollen love bag, making my hammer pulsate a few times, and leftover creme pour out of its head. I feel it, hot and sticky on my stomach pads.

Putricius lays down with me to spoon, and the Admins retreat to the lounging area, to the individual nests where their Darlings are waiting. Soon the warm, fragrant air is filled with pleasure moans and the crackling of the well-maintained fireplace.

"Oh, Luddi," is whispered into my ear. "You're the gift that keeps on giving."

* * *

As my fondest memory comes to an end, one that always comforts me, I look away from the train car's window and notice that Miss Kittenberg is listening to an audio book on her Dwindle, and Koover is in the hallway talking on his phone and pouring tea into his thermo cup, Nastasia and Frankie are gone without a trace. They have gone into the private sleeping compartment. I deduct this from the steadily intensifying bangs against the wall, where my seat is. I can feel it in the back of my head, actually. Aww, they found love. Don't worry. It's the fresh alpine air which can make it hard for anyone not to mix business with pleasure.

Besides, nothing wrong with two people finding love, right?


	5. Widescream Edition

**Yeah, so, just Iggy/Ludwig-smut in this one. Plus another sweet surprise, since an update was very much desired by some. I just _hate_ to disappoint!**

* * *

The video had to have been shot with a camcorder, judging from how shaky the footage was. Suddenly the camera panned left, and Ludwig von Koopa's frame filled the screen. He was filming himself, posing in the mirror.

"Welcome back, Ignatius," he said after a short fade to black made a pause between the two scenes. The door to the library opened up, and Iggy stood by the window, timidly retiring to the fireplace, where he removed his long, woolen coat. The brass cage had not yet been built, and his part of the chateau's library was only divided with rugs. The bed was in place, however, and made with a dozen large, fluffy pillows in velvet and satin, and several minky blankets lined with more of Ludwig's beloved shiny satin.

Iggy looked at the camera, obviously held by Ludwig. His eyes were not entirely trustworthy. of course, his brother saw that too.

"Now that you're home, darling, how about slipping into something more comfortable?"

"I am comfortable," Iggy retorted, as he climbed up into his bed with his behind and tail both pointed insolently into the air. As Ludwig approached with the camera, the green-haired one moved over to one of the canopy bed's post with rather seductive, smooth scoots. A little tug on a ribbon made the drapes fall down, shielding him from the one on the other side.

As Ludwig pulled the curtain aside, the camcorder slipped a little, and a large mirror, susiciously placed in the ceiling right above the bed, could be seen for a second.

"How does that feel?" Ludwig's deep voice asked. I was hard to see on the screen as the camcorder had been placed on the nightstand, but Iggy's slurred voice made it clear that he had been given a large dose of a questionable substance.

"No, Luddi. No... Not with... our bodies..." The old camera's built-in sound recorder made Iggy's labored breathing sound like a cat's purr. "Why can't you see... How beautiful it is to love with only our souls and hearts instead?"

The shot was blurry for a couple of seconds, until it was again focused on Ludwig, who was propping Iggy's lower back up with pillows until he was standing on his shoulders; Ludwig's favorite entry position going years back.

"I wanted to wait until you were ready, Iggy, my sweet darling," he said tenderly, yet ominously, as he spread lubricant on his enormous, veiny flesh-hammer. "But that's like asking for tomorrow not to happen. Impossible _and _pointless."

"Please don't put that in me," Iggy gasped, blushing. Everything about his body language was about mixed signals...

"Don't worry, Iggy," Ludwig said, sweat beading into drops on his forehead. "You won't remember anything afterwards thanks to that delicious shot I just gave you. In return what I'm about to do to you will feel ten times more awesome."

The focus was on Iggy's tight little ass as Ludwig entered him. The latter let out a primal-sounding groan of pleasure, and also relief. "Ohh... shit... That's delicious..."

Iggy responded with some shaky breathing, turning to moans, mixed with some breathy "fuck you"s. Ludwig's stomach and thighs were glistening with misty sweat, and they even rippled a little every time he made a deep, guttural moan. Even with all the lubricant Iggy was too tight for him to penetrate completely. His powerful, unforgiving thrusts ended at the middle of his rock-hard flesh...

Roaring like a Magmaargh, Ludwig leaned his head backwards as a gorgeous fountain of his wicked fluids escaped Iggy's ass. Some of it may have come from the tip of the latter's cock. It was hard to tell on the fuzzy camcorder...

"Amazing, huh?" Ludwig pulled out and focused on a shot of Iggy's ass. "Look... It's fucking gaping."

The cam was returned to the nightstand as Ludwig grabbed the bottle of lubricant. Massaging his darling in the place where the latter was blitzkrieged, perhaps against his will, he entered with two of his fingers, the claws on which had been buffed round. A very determined prostate massage was taking place. Ludwig had had a lot of practice. Iggy was going to cum whether he wanted to or not.

And he did - all over the silk bedsheets. Ludwig smirked at the sound of his prize's gasping climax. Grabbing him around the hips, Ludwig straightened Iggy up, allowing the green-haired ones' erect member to stand up for itself, as its owner would love to do, and kissed his neck.

"Tell me you didn't love that. Tell me you don't love me... just a little bit."

"You're a sick bastard, Ludwig," Iggy snarled under his post-orgasmic gasps. "I will see to it that you get punished."

"Ooh," Ludwig taunted. "That's _dirty_. What else will you do to me?"

Iggy's eyelids twitched with disgust from the kisses his new owner was now smoothly placing on his nape. "They will lock you up forever. No one wants scum like you in the world."

"Sounds wonderful," Ludwig said, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm. His hand locked itself around Iggy's delicate neck, while he now focused his kisses on Iggy's shoulders. "Darling, if you ever leave me or this place..."

The feisty glimmer left Iggy's eyes as he heard Ludwig's threatening words, and they became large and dull.

"Oh, you wouldn't do that, would you? You know better. But only..." his grip tightened a little. "As long as I let you."

The screen faded to black only to return later, the time stamp revealing this part of the video was made five months later. Iggy was in the bed, melodramatically splayed over a faux fur bed throw, the light from the fireplace dancing over his freshly waxed shell. His eyes were dreamy. And dilated from sedative narcotics.

"What's up?" Ludwig asked as he again placed the camera on the nightstand. Iggy had a white gold ring on his left ring finger, encrusted with tiny diamonds.

"Just lounging here, thinking," Iggy replied, rolling over to make place for his owner.

"You know you're not supposed to think after five o'clock." Ludwig wagged his finger and tutted. "That's a no-no."

Iggy looked worried. "You're not gonna put that in today's journal, are you?"

The blue-haired captor raised his eyebrow and glared sternly at his ward. Then -

"No, I don't think so."

Relieved, Iggy opened his silk robe to allow Ludwig to stare and touch what he was not really entitled to lay his hands on, and that the former would never allow him to touch if his judgment hadn't been chemically compomised. After slowly pouring oil on his plastron, Iggy lay back into the soft pillows. Ludwig massaged his beloved's entire body, tonight devoting extra care to his feet.

"You know that Koopa who does your nails? I think he deserves a raise."

"He gave me a "Beanish tip" today." Iggy's smile was velvety soft. "Your favorite."

Unseen and painlessly, Ludwig introduced a powerful stimulant into his Darling's bloodstream. The effect was instantaneous. Watching it rise was like seeing a rose blooming in fast forward.

"Now I want my _inside _massage," Ludwig purred, making his fondness for this activity crystal clear. "Make me proud, darling."

The Darling's talent at this particular pastime would have surprised anyone, given his apparent docile temperament and passive role in the other tapes. Ludwig sat across him, back turned, moving slowly up and down over Iggy's vigorous thrusts. His breath was heavy, his glossy dark blue hair was damp from brushing over his sweaty scales. Strangely enough he wasn't pleasuring himself other than giving it an occasional stroke.

A deep growl of pleasure escaped him. "Oohhh, Iggy, grab my tail...!"

Having his tail in a grasp must have enhanced the sensation of his fleshy prostate massage. Ludwig's head turned limp, drooping backwards, as his massive cock released a magnificent gush of what looked exactly like whipped cream. He roared like a delirious Blargg.

"Am I your only one?" Ludwig asked, still panting as he dismounted Iggy.

"No," the green-haired Darling replied bluntly. "Morton asked for it once, too.

Ludwig's love flesh didn't stay limp for long after hearing this. "Oh, really?"

Iggy nodded. "It was the summer you were in Finishing School for Conceited Young Gentlekoopas."

Ludwig remembered that. He had learned most of his moves there. Some the other... gentlekoopas had helped him cultivate.

"Lemmy was off to summer school, too. Morton and I were the only ones who weren't." Iggy's eyes were large and dreamy once more. "He told me he was in love with me. That he had been all his life."

The blue-haired maestro lifted Iggy's glasses to kiss his temple softly. "That's so precious. Did you return his feelings?"

Iggy's smile was mysterious. "I loved him like we all do. That hasn't changed. It was strong enough to start a... physical relationship."

Ludwig sighed in contentment. And lust. "You two began exchanging pleasurable carnal knowledge?"

"Yes," Iggy purred. "At first it was just kissing, Dark Land-fashion. We had ended our dates like that for two weeks before we gave each other our first blowjobs."

"Not rushing into anything." Ludwig gave him a nod of approval. "Ignatius, that's fantastic. When... When did you fuck for the first time?"

"We began when August began." Iggy closed his eyes slowly, apparently reminiscing. "We had eaten a candle-lit dinner and watched a porno first. We both felt ready."

"How did he react when you put your diamond-hard cock inside him?"

"He moaned like the sweet little whore we both know he really is," Iggy crooned viciously.

Positioning himself behind Iggy, flipping him over on the side and lifting his leg up, Ludwig mumbled lustfully into his Darling's ear.

"Did you plow his delicious love cloud of an ass until he creamed himself?"

Iggy sighed from the pleasure of being penetrated by his Admin's comfortingly familiar cock.

"I felt his bag fill up with pure delicious with every thrust, until it became too big for my hand." Iggy's eyelid twitched. "Oh, Luddi, some more lube, please," he groaned.

Adding some more cherry gel to the base of his hammer, Ludwig was desperate to hear more of his Darling's dirty story.

"He wanted me to pull the rubber off so we could be as close as absolutely possible. I figured, since he was so obviously a virgin, it was okay."

Ludwig's face gave testament to the pleasure-induced psychosis that was short-circuiting his brilliant brain. "Did it feel better?" He rewarded Iggy with a few very deep thrusts.

"Yeah...!" The Darling was at the point where he could see the glorious climax approaching him in the distance.

"Did he... Aahhh... Ever fuck _you_?"

Iggy's eyelid twitched again. "Yes."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic," Ludwig pointed out, voice a little calmer, as his movements had slowed down a bit.

"Well, you see... Morton explained to me that he looks like a dude on the outside, but inside of him, he feels like he's actually a lady. And obviously a lady don't have the gear to love someone inside their body. So I always fucked him while he always gave me blowjobs."

How beautiful. Ludwig exhaled shakily. "How else was Morton a lady, Ignatius?"

Ignatius thought back. "We used to play that we were married and trying to start a family. My wife's name would be "Martina". "She" asked me to roar "her" name whenever I came inside "her"." I kept all her pretty dresses in the suitcase under our marriage bed."

Ludwig picked up the pace, realizing none of them could hold it back any longer at this point.

"Your marriage sounds blissful," he mumbled, seconds away from an explosion.

"It really was, you know," Iggy purred. "'Martina' came in to me one night and told me that 'she' was expecting our first..."

A window-rattling earthquake of a roaring climax later, Ludwig lay on top of Iggy as if he were a mattress, and the pair kissed passionately, the collective cum they had released at the same time making the skin on their stomachs and chests stick together. It would be impossible for an outsider to know whether or not Iggy's story was true or just mandated dirty talk. But what sane person would dwell on it?

* * *

Hearing the Goomba maids approaching with lunch, Boom Boom quickly put the tape back where it belonged and hurried over to the library's table. He hoped standing behind a chair would help him hide that shameful, and of course entirely unintended bulge...


	6. An Organic Experience

**I've made some changes to the story, as you can see, now that the story is taking shape and its plot, whatever that is, is thickening. If you would like a copy of the old chapters, let me know by sending me a PM (obviously won't work for anonymous/guest reviewers) and I'll provide you with a link. Now, enjoy this newest chapter! You know; _enjoy_.**

* * *

I never rely on the sun to rouse me in the morning. I rise when my mind does – the earlier the better. After a hot bath I dress myself and have my breakfast in private, since Iggy doesn't get up until I wake him. He likes to sleep in till at least eight, and I like reading the newspaper. The Society's rules dictate that an Admin can never read while sharing a meal with his Darling. It's very inconsiderate, you know.

Taking a long sip of the freshly brewed coffee I savor the scent while reminiscing the night before. When sweaty and exhausted, my Darling and I finally slid off each other after another of our sweet sessions. Ignatius greeted me so happily when I returned home yesterday. Sadly he still isn't cooperating as well as I had hoped. He might need some more… education. At least he doesn't shy away from my touch or try to bite me anymore. He is opening up to me, enjoying me, like I enjoy him.

"I want potato chips and soda," he says nonchalantly. I smile down at him, the little imp. Don't get me wrong; Iggy's sense of entitlement is just as… cultivated as any progeny of the House of Koopa's sense of entitlement ought to be. Darlings, however, do not get to make demands.

"You'll ruin your appetite, my dear," I reply. Iggy's caloric intake cannot be too rich in simple carbohydrates. He's not as sweet as he looks. He's a force to be reckoned with. Dominating him takes strength. And because he's so god damn irresistible… Well, good thing I found his weakness before he found mine.

"You know what I love?" Iggy slides across the sheets, right into my arms.

"Tell me," I say, putting away my reading glasses. My weakness is my hunger for this so very lovable creature and how it exists apart from my mind and body. I want to tell him… But his adorable mind must not be compromised by profundity. There are set rules for that, as well. I love rules…

Iggy gently brushes away some strands to get to my ever-listening ear. "Those flaky pastries with marzipan in them." My ear is kissed by something out of this world, I just know.

"Really?" I feel his soft, warm hand on my chest as his mouth moves over to my neck. "Well… I do, too. They're, uh, quite delicious, aren't they?"

I can feel his precious heart beating as he leans over, seated across me. Judging by my now absent sense of danger and the fact that there are pink sparkles around Iggy's pretty little head, I'm certifiably psychotic now. "What else do you like sinking your pearly whites into?"

Iggy's cheeks are irresistibly pink. "Well… No, you don't wanna hear about it. You wanna send me to bed so you can do your very, very important work."

"No, no, sweetness. This is just as _important work_," I insist. "

He smiles wickedly. "Alrighty, then," His sweet mouth is resting on my Adam's apple before resuming the lovely kisses. "Tea biscuits with honey on them." His breath is raspy. "I don't even care if the flour is non-organic."

Now that's dirty talk! My soul is on fire, desperately trying to rip itself out of its fleshy prison. I can feel it. "How about rotisserie chicken?"

"With tons of sweet chili sauce, of course." Iggy slowly removes his robe. The silk is actually rougher than his delicate skin. With a dramatic toss I turn the tables, sitting atop him, having his wrists in a gentle, but very firm grip, pressing his arms into the pillows.

"Sphygmology," I growl, "Is the study of the pulse." I think back carefully. "It's a crucial part of all schools of medical care, from first aid to intensive care."

Iggy looks very frightened at first, mostly because I'm ever so good at keeping him guessing. He's so pale due to the darkness of the Swiss winter, that I can see his carotid ticking in his slender neck. Then he smiles, like only he knows how to. Will that smile stay frozen on his very lovable face forever, if I stopped that relentless ticking?

"I see you've read my article on the cardiovascular system of our own and our related species for the _' Journal_," he purrs. "Does the professor approve?"

My eyes are on the perfect curves of his torso and shoulders. "Professor says A+," I say, never averting my shameless gaze. "It's concise, easy to navigate through, and designed to educate many, regardless of their educational level. The Headmin approves, also. He thinks it's time he introduced you to the Headmin and the other gifted Darlings of the Society's board."

Iggy's eyes widen, and he stops breathing. "I declare!" He lays his gorgeous fingers across his mouth.

"You're ready, Ignatius," I say as tenderly as my evil soul, already torn with jealousy allows me to,-"To take the pledge, and become a permanent member of our society."

Iggy has stopped breathing, so I climb off his dainty, delicate frame and cradle him in my arms for a little while. I know. The prospect of becoming an addition to the Society is overwhelming to most. I study every inch of his skin very carefully. He hasn't made any pitiful attempts to escape lately. The miserable creature used to harm himself to get back at me. At first, because he thought that it alone would shock me. Later, after finding out it didn't, he was cunning enough to read the Society's book of statutes, which disallows an Admin near a sick or injured Darling. This rule is the main reason the Society has remained death and disease free for centuries.

"What if they don't like me?" He then gasps. "What if they find out about that blackhead I had six years ago!" His memory goes to even darker places. "Or that ounce too much I just couldn't shed!"

He's blushing. He's cute when he does that. But I doubt that I can ever hope to pluck all the thorns from the stem of _this_ rose. I like to believe that he's this pure and untouched angel, I really do. But he knows how our world works. He knows that others are resting their hungry eyes on him, too. Maybe he likes it and even wishes there was enough of his sweet love to go around. There's only a matter of time before he learns that I know. In his habitat, he's the trusting, virginal Ignatius who blushes, and writes childlike little poems on teabag envelopes, there, inside his charming little habitat, where nothing scary or unknown can reach him. To Ignatius I am omniscient. In this bed; my bed, he's Iggy; powerful, treacherous, and oh-so beautiful. Iggy doesn't need me. There's no choice to be made. I love them both, and I need them to feel alive. It's always been this way. I'm the weak one, no matter which bed my Darling is in. It vexes me to no end.

"Then we'll have to find a way to persuade them into liking you." I lay down next to him. "I already find it absolutely impossible not to like you, Ignatius."

Our love is passionate tonight. Even more so than usual – afterwards Iggy falls asleep in my bed, which he has never done before. Usually he puts his robe back on and goes very quietly into the hall, where his bodyguard assists him in retiring to his habitat. Not tonight, however. He's fast asleep for real, with my velvet jacket for a pillow. It's against the rules for Admins and Darlings to share a bed when they're not, as our terminology goes, "engaging". We are supposed to lead very separate lives at least 50% of the day and the Darling must never know the scope of their Admin's ubiquitous control. It's part of the culture, and fantasy.

But I can't bear to disturb him. He's sleeping so soundly; like a happy little Koopa. I therefore gingerly remove his glasses and redirect his heavy head to a more appropriate pillow.

I don't fall asleep as easily these days, not even after engaging with Iggy, who wants it twice in a row. He's sleeping like a kitten. I did once, when I was in the care of Professor Putricius. Ah, the memories are sweet. When Iggy refuses to cooperate I think back at the time I shared with the Professor. He was a lot more firm with me than I've ever been with Iggy, mostly because Iggy has never given me half as much grief as I did the Professor. I used to run away, too, when the role of his Darling became overwhelming. My admin was quite demanding. But I never got far before I was seized and brought back where I belonged. The Society is everywhere. Don't be alarmed. It's there to take care of those who need love… and the strong, rich and very powerful men who can't _ever_ stop loving you.

It's morning. Because we're leaving the chateau together today, I rouse Iggy. He sits up, stark naked, very much contrasting the bashful demeanor of most Darlings. He's changing. He's accepting his role. It must be easier for him to do so now that he's absolutely sure I won't leave him, or worse, trade him in for a less pig-headed model. That's not going to happen. But I guess I haven't made that clear enough.

"Iggy," I say, voice almost trembling, because he's looking at me _like that_. "We should probably shower and get dressed."

"You're right," he replies, approaching me with alluring footsteps. "We should."

I grab my pager to alert Iggy's caretakers to draw him a bath, but my Darling takes it away, tossing it over on the daybed. "That won't be necessary," he purrs.

"Oh," I say, realizing what he wants. "You want us to engage in my bath?"

He pulls at my hand until he has leaded me into my private bath, which is just as decadently luxurious as his own. I play along. "Ignatius," I say seriously. "We can't in here." Ohh, the little serpent is nibbling on my shoulder. My body responds in a way it was designed to respond to such… royal treatment. I can't be firm with Iggy right now. My body is way too busy being firm somewhere else.

"Iggy, this is a bath; a place of cleanliness and purity," I insist as I shockingly enough still turn on the faucet of my waterfall shower and run my fingers through my Darling's tangled hair.

He just smirks at me. "Luddi, I'm the cleanest little object in this castle."

I draw my breath to answer him, but I find myself having been rendered pretty much speechless by a sudden brain fart. "I've got nothing."

* * *

At least the "waterfall" in the shower can rinse even the filthiest hands and the rest of a person's body in no time, which is good, seeing as I demand that we wash our hair first. Iggy lathers his twice; isn't he a dutiful little Darling? Mine reaches almost to my shoulders, and could use a trim.

Iggy shows me his sculpted shoulders and backside, and swoons as I embrace him from behind. How did he become this excellent kisser? Only by obeying me? I doubt it…

Our bodies are so used to one another now we almost don't need all this lubricant-business. Iggy still whimpers a little when I enter him, but I don't pay too much attention. It's so fun, you know; roughing up your better half. The stream of water bounces off my shoulders and sprays sparkling little dewdrops onto Iggy's hair. He says the filthiest word I've allowed him to know. The look he is now sending me is not exactly PG, either.

"Clean me," he demands, voice deep and harsh. His breath is raspy again. "I'm filthy…"

He knows this kind of talk drives me over the edge. I thrust harder, making him groan, and it's not just a pleasure sound. He deserves it. I reach around him and grab his flesh, and I can feel it pulsate as he climaxes.

"Clean me!" He half-screams in ecstasy. "Clean me, or I'll become as dirty and debased as _you_!"

If only! I don't know if I roared in or outside my own head, because my mind is blown the moment I cream inside of him. I wait to withdraw myself until Iggy is breathing normally again.

"You're a little whore," I say matter-of-factly. "You're delicious and I would love to kiss you right now, but I've been raised not to put my tongue in such a filthy little mouth as yours."

Iggy nuzzles my neck. "Aww… We both know you couldn't resist me if you tried." He smiles, like a cute little angel hiding a stolen apple behind his back. "Are you gonna kiss me now, sir?"

"Yes, I am," I say bluntly. His mouth tastes better than any forbidden fruit I've ever sampled. Ignatius obviously shares this sentiment, as he is purring like a fat cat.

"Can we have sex in the shower every Saturday?"

I love that word. It's so taboo it's Latin.

"We'll see."

I dry him off, first his skin, and then I rub some coconut oil for skin on his scales. If you don't that after showering your skin will dry up and get these little red bumps on it. I dry his hair, too, and watches it go back to its normal style as it dries. That's Koopa hair for you; every day is a good hair day.


	7. A Share of Beauty

**Sorry to disappoint some of you, but I will not include Jr. in this story. He's an underage character and I hate him. Always have. End of story. ****Please**** don't waste reviews bringing him up. I hope you'll still enjoy the rest of the story. :)  
**

* * *

It's a gorgeous spring evening and the doors to the Society's headquarters have been opened so everyone can enjoy the garden. I look carefully around – Headmin sure has a lot of beautiful and exotic cultivars in his many well-maintained beds. If only I could pick a bunch of them to take home.

Headmin himself is on the polished marble patio, enjoying the fresh Swiss mountain air , holding hands with Lux. I think back, and return with a nod of approval; these two have been together for many years. And they still look like they fell in love yesterday.

"Welcome home," Headmin says and shakes my claw. He also looks approvingly at Iggy. "And Ignatius; always a pleasure."

"Thank you," Iggy says shyly. Lux knows how much a direct personal address from Headmin can intimidate a Darling, which is why he parts from Headmin's side, takes Iggy's slender arm in his, and leads him away to the Darling-only part of the vast flower garden.

"Not to worry, Ludwig," Headmin says as I keep an eye on the two. "I know, from studying the results of Ignatius' last loyalty conference that he will not try to escape again. Now let's withdraw to my office."

As soon as we are alone I decide to vent my frustration, which I rarely have an opportunity to do. "I love him so much it hurts. But… he's still fighting me. Every single day it's the same battle."

Headmin nods his red Mohawk, not at all surprised. "In what way, my friend?"

I wonder where to begin? "Every month I present him with the diamonds he requests. Each and every gem is flawless. But he refuses to wear them."

Headmin sits down in the overstuffed armchair behind his massive cherry desk. I lay down in the Freudian-looking couch next to it.

"I see," Headmin says. "Does he demand any other kind of gems, or gifts?"

I shake my head. "No, sir. It's always diamonds; sparkly, precious diamonds."

Headmin smiles. I'm surprised. "What?"

"Don't you understand? Ignatius is testing you. The diamonds are his way of finding out what you love most, and find most important. Beautiful trinkets… Or him."

Leaning back into the soft couch I slowly nod. "I'm beginning to see now, sir. There's just one thing… I give him the diamonds. They're not for me."

Headmin nods pensively. "The diamonds are clearly proxies for something else. Do you work a lot these days?"

Ah. Now I get it. "Yes… The launch of advertisement campaign for my company's new food additive took longer to organize than anyone had anticipated. I'm afraid I brought business home..."

The ultimate sin in the eyes of the Society is to put one's career ahead of time with one's Darling. According to the rules Iggy is free to leave me now. Unless I get counseling from the Headmin, that is.

"I personally performed his evaluation, as you may remember." Headmin opens the copy of mine and Iggy's file. Personally I would have preferred it if Iggy's intelligence quotient would have been at least 15 points lower in order for his level of self-sufficiency to better match the score of the ideal Darling. I chose to disregard it as your chemistry is otherwise perfect. But now there is another problem at hand. One which I can't ignore."

I don't like the sound of that. Headmin opens his top drawer and takes out a small folder containing artwork which is instantly recognizable to me. It's Iggy's.

"For the romantic abilities assessment part of his pre-evaluation Iggy was asked to choose three or more flowers out of a vase to paint. He chose a white poppy, a red rose and a bulrush. I was very much surprised as I have never seen a Darling as shy and withdrawn as Ignatius choose this combination of flowers. My money was on the cornflowers and carnations; flowers more demure and delicate." Headmin's eyes darken.

"I'm worried that as of late your relationship with your Darling has been disproportionately physical than emotional and spiritual. As much as engaging physically is important to the lifestyle you and Iggy have chosen for yourselves, you must remember that Darlings are very, very sensitive to imbalance. Ignatius appears frightened of your power. I think you are using it too… liberally."

This _is_ bad news. The real reason why I haven't taken the time to care for Iggy's emotional needs is that I didn't think he cared anyway. But now I see why he's been seeking to me a bit more than he normally does. "What… What can I do to help this situation, sir? I… I'm willing to do absolutely anything!"

"Good," Admin says. "Then we won't have any problems. I suggest you work harder on earning his trust. Tell him no the next time he asks for diamonds, and instead take an interest in his life. It will bring you closer together." He sips a health shake offered by a passing maid. "Ludwig, nothing gladdens me more than when a union within this perfect society is successful. Our centuries-long traditions have taught our members more than excellent business skills. We have all the tools and secrets to nurture and cultivate any kind of relationship. We always seek to fix what we already have."

I feel so relieved and happy. "Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome, Ludwig." Headmin smiles at me. He's such a warm and caring Koopa. "Now let's join the others. 26 adult Koopas and not one of them can operate the barbeque pit on their own."

* * *

May is wonderful in that the air is still cool and refreshing while you can already revel in the lovely summer scents. Also, the Darling-only gazebos are still heated at night. All the 26 Darlings of the society were gathering here. Several Darlings had brought their watercolors and pastels to draw and paint the gorgeous sunset. Some were arranging flowers for the tables, while others were lounging in the soft daybeds.

Iggy and Lux opted for this as well, in one of the more private gazebos. No sooner than closing the gossamer drapes to the entrance the pair embraced each other tenderly, tugging at each other's richly decorated robes. Lux wore his silk rather flirtatiously, allowing the sleeve to hang below his shoulder. Iggy on the other hand, obedient and loyal, was considerably more buttoned up and closed off to unsolicited attention.

It's of course unheard of for a Darling to "know" another Admin, but two or more Darlings making love in the quarters reserved for them is expected and even encouraged, because it's not regarded as the "carnal knowledge" listed by their book of rules. Most Darlings, who share their beauty, as their lovemaking is called, pick a different partner every time. But Iggy only wanted to be with Lux, despite knowing very well that the latter had many bed friends and was not all that ashamed of it, either.

"I want to see," Lux whispered while undoing the clasp of Iggy's obi, allowing the garment to caress his soft scales as it slid off. The rainbow-haired Darling then smiled. "You wear white tank tops and underwear underneath your robe?"

Iggy smiled back, with a hint of awkwardness. "Yes. What if another Koopa saw some of my beauty? I'd be _tempting_ him! And that's terrible."

Lux giggled. "Well, of course it is."

Hesitating no longer, Iggy removed all of his clothes and neatly put them away like a good little Darling. Lux welcomed him into the warm, soft pillow pile. The two gorgeous Darlings lay there, kissing and touching ever so tenderly.

"Would anyone like a fresh drink?" The curtains were pulled, and a Cutie entered the gazebo.

"Cutie" is not an official title within the Society, you know. This name was an invention of a Darling that for some reason stuck. Nevertheless they are considered associates in their own right. They are below Admins and Darlings, and while many of them certainly rise to the rank of Darling most Cuties are content staying on the sideline. Cuties are often employed as valets and caretakers of Darlings. Admins are not allowed to approach or address them because of the too vast rank discrepancy, which is frightening to the easily overwhelmed Cuties. Besides serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres and doing nails Cuties have no larger function and after finishing their tasks, often snuggle up in the pillow pile in the Darling lounge until their services are once more needed.

In addition to a shocked face the Cutie now standing in the gazebo's entry bore a simple oyster colored robe with a name tag that read "Wawwy". Which of course was a pet name for something else.

"Oh, dear!" 'Wawwy' almost dropped the drinks as he turned away. "Forgive me, Master Lux! I… I didn't mean to…"

"Of course you didn't," Lux said dryly as he covered Iggy up with a nearby silk blanket. He didn't believe that for a second. Whenever curtains are closed it means "do not disturb". There was no way this dirty-minded little Cutie didn't know that. "Look what you did! Now you've upset Master Ignatius!"

Wawwy reclined into a corner, looking both frightened and ashamed. "I swear I didn't mean it!"

Lux rose from the divan. "Hah!" he scoffed, and turned to Iggy. "I think this little worm was hoping to rest his pretty eyes on something really sweet, don't you?"

Iggy sat up. "Like, totally. But don't be too hard on him. After all…" He embraced Lux from behind, kissing his neck. "We're slamming hotties."

As they kissed each other sloppily, Wawwy could feel something rise under his modest Cutie robes.

"That's truer than true, sweetness," Lux said. "But this little voyeur still needs his punishment." He raised an eyebrow towards Wawwy. "Come here, now." He summoned the Cutie with his finger.

The barely legal Wawwy blushed. "No."

Lux approached him ominously. "You get your fine little tail over here _now_," he growled.

The Cutie had no other choice than to remove his robe and lay down across Lux' lap and await his doom.

"You've been a bad little Cutie." Lux took out his folding fan from his sleeve with dramatic flair. "This will teach you some boundaries!"

Using the fan, he spanked Wawwy across his adorable little tail.

"Ahh!" Wawwy exclaimed, more joyfully than painfully. "Ohh, Master Lux, please show me the righteous path!"

Spying on the intimate session of two Darlings bought Wawwy fifteen licks with the fan's handle. As soon as the discipline had been issued, he whimpered under his breath as he crawled around Lux' feet on his knees.

"Thank you…" He was longing to hide his little bottom in his robes, but Lux had other plans for him.

"Tut, tut. What are you hiding this time? Turn around." Iggy's friend smirked at the defenseless little Cutie, who again had a look of defiance on his angelic face.

"Oh, it's _so_ beautiful," Ignatius said with a sigh. Lux obviously shared his sentiment as he welcomed Wawwy back into the deluxe divan, this time smiling sweetly. "I wouldn't mind a piece of _that_!"

"Me neither," Lux purred.

The two Darlings gently lay the Cutie down onto the layers of fluff and velvet, restraining him whenever he struggled. "Please," he said. "I… want to be a Darling one day, too…"

Both Iggy and Lux were touched at how their new playmate revealed his little dream to them. "Really? I guess a _beloved_ Darling, then?" Iggy caressed Wawwy's powder blue mane.

"Yes…" Wawwy blushed once more, "A pretty _and_ beloved Darling."

Lux tilted his head, finding the Cutie's words so endearing. "And your Admin? Any idea what he's like?"

Wawwy giggled. "He's so big and strong… That whenever he holds me I just relax… because he will never lose me."

No one else could ever know, but Wawwy's words touched something deep within Iggy. Something he had kept buried for a very long time.

"That's how every Admin ought to be," Lux said warmly. "Powerful, dominant… and utter loving."

"Yes!" The Cutie whispers in joy. "But only he should be allowed to touch me."

"Ah, I get it." Iggy's voice was sweeter than farm fresh honey. "You want _everyone_ to love you with their hearts, don't you?"

Wawwy nodded, smiling awkwardly. "Yes, please."

"But how will you know that you will be happy together with your Admin unless you know what satisfies you?" Lux asked.

This conundrum calmed the hesitant and barely legal Cutie enough to make him recline into the pillows as the two Darlings began nuzzling his neck. The pleasure, which he didn't feel entitled to, not one bit, seemed to frighten him. Look your best, serve drinks, shut up. That was his place in this world. It was all he felt he deserved also. And now he was being doted upon by two of the most revered Darlings of the bunch.

"It's rising all on its own," Iggy muttered as his lips reached Wawwy's firm, but trembling stomach. The Darlings both smiled as they took turns sucking and blowing the Cutie's protruding flesh with remarkable skill. They each thought the other's tongue made the already delicious-tasting cock even better.

"Please…!" Wawwy's adorable face twitched. "Ohhh, pleeeease….!" Sweat ran down his torso and face, and he was both terrified and delighted. Lux allowed Iggy to take over for a while so he could concentrate on gently stroking the peach-fuzz like hairs on Wawwy's perfectly shaped love bag. It was pulsating underneath his fingers, speaking of delicious contents and a tremendous power.

"You are so adorable…" Lux looked down on the ecstatic Wawwy. He decided to do something with this lovely sense of power he was feeling and put either knee on the side of the Cutie's head, facing Iggy, and becoming thrilled at how very, _very_ willingly Wawwy sucked him off without being told to.

Darlings are receivers, and it's not often they are good at giving blowjobs, so Lux concluded both Iggy and Wawwy were naturals. Seeing and feeling them in action was better than any porno he had ever watched. Then, Wawwy's breath turned raspy and he began groaning, his hungry and talented little mouth vibrating around Lux' flesh until the more seasoned Darling decided to cream down his throat, and confirm once and for all that he had struck true material.

His tangy flavor was too much for the lovable little Cutie, who in turn splooged in Iggy's welcoming mouth. Wawwy's entire body shook, and moaning like the filthy little slut he had always dreamed of being, he had never felt happier.

As he stood on his knees in front of Lux, licking up the last schweet drops, he was torn out of his innocent little Cutie-world by Iggy entering him rather unforgivingly. Not that it was objected to…

Wawwy's face puckered with both pleasure and pain. "Ahh…!"

"Yeaahh, that's it," Iggy snarled, shoving Wawwy up against the wall and thrusting mercilessly. The Cutie whimpered – this was almost too much for him. But when he tried to slink away, Lux grabbed him by the wrists.

"No, no – I'd let Master Ignatius have his way with me if I were you," he snickered. "Darling's fucking brutal."

Wawwy, now restrained and trapped between two very experienced Koopas, felt like a star and a piece of meat at the same time. "Yeah…! Fuck me! Fuck my tight little ass…!"

"Cutie's got a dirty mouth," Iggy growled. He wasn't quite as good at containing a climax as Ludwig, who had obviously been taught by the best. Three thrusts later he felt it surging through his smoldering flesh and into his new friend, who also came all over Iggy's stomach.

Iggy's teeth chattered, like they always did after a big O, and it warmed his heart to see Wawwy pout as he separated his body from his. He didn't need to feel down for long…

"You know what?" Lux asked Iggy, who was tenderly stroking Wawwy's sweaty Mohawk. "I think he really is Darling material. And under our very nose the whole time, can you imagine?"

"Isn't it great, though?" Iggy put Wawwy's head on his chest. "It's like a gold strike quite literally sitting in our laps."

Lux clicked his tongue. "He hasn't sat in _my_ lap yet."

"Sorry about that…" Iggy put Wawwy down into the pillow pile and spread the blanket over him. "We don't want to exhaust him." He then winked at Lux. "But luckily for the both of us I know the perfect place to seat _you_."

Wawwy, now the most beloved little Darling, in the gazebo at least, smiled as he watched Lux and Iggy continue where they left off in the first place. He didn't feel guilty about having interrupted them. Go figure.


	8. Broken Sentences

**A Ludwig-chapter! Awesome!**

* * *

I'm helpless. I sit on the pedestal, and look out on the parts of the world around me that my eyes can reach. Professor Putricius and I are discussing the designs of the circulatory systems of different classes. I had wanted to ask him; "What about those of us who are both spineless _and_ gutless?" But then he abruptly leaves.

I shift my weight on the settee. Walking is painful these days, because several new pretty marks have shown up on my legs. Beauty hurts, they say. Particularly in the groin muscles and hamstrings. My ribs ache, too. It hurts to breathe, and my arms are tired from cushioning my body against the impacts of lying down and sitting.

Putricius returns a while later and gives me a glass cup of herbal water. He never sits down until finish it, so I drink it all. Despite its funny flavor it's refreshing and cooling. After putting the cup down the professor starts pulling at my silk. I can't help but feeling a little disappointed – I wanted to finish our studies on invertebrates today. But I don't tell him that, or else it's another week of no solids.

"What pretty highlights," he says as he runs his strong yet slender fingers through my well-maintained coiffure.

I blush a little. "What can I say? You know I love experimenting with chemicals."

Although Putricius' grip is pressing down on my "pretty marks", making me wince, his scales are warm against mine as he pulls me close, and eases the pain more than any analgesic ever could.

"Experimenting is the best way to learn. I should know, right?"

"Yes, professor Putricius," I reply.

The snow is falling again, covering the windows. It's December, but the professor isn't into Christmas lights. Or celebrating Christmas at all. I remember how my father, my brothers and I decorated the castle on the last Sunday of every November. There would be holly, and candles and tinsel streamers in every window, and a Christmas tree in every bedroom. Hand knitted stockings would hang on the mantle in the Koopaling rec room, as we all slept in there during the cold months of the year. We'd enjoy freshly baked cookies. _Stolen_ cookies, but still. The rest of us would make popcorn garlands, and Morton would eat them before they ever made it to our tree.

No, the only thing the Professor decorates around here is me. I'm wearing a platinum and diamond bracelet around my bruised, aching wrist. It glitters like a constellation. Oh, my, what a beauty I am. I'm loved and provided for. I should be so happy.

But until I can remember what my father said about being afraid, I can't. He once told me his worst fear. I was working on my contribution to the University's annual genetics symposium. I prioritized shouldering the reputation of my fraternity rather than my father's childishly king-sized ego. I just wish, right now, that I could remember what he said about fear. Because now I feel it – and it's horrible. I haven't had any appropriate emotions since I moved in into my habitat at the Professor's mansion. He's not putting anything in my food, I swear.

Still I haven't consumed anything for the last day and a half. My stomach is dry as a bone and if I don't eat soon, it's going to up and leave me. I ignore for now as this is the only chance I'll get for a long time.

One of the reasons I loved Frankenstein University so much is because it offered me a way out of a background I wasn't proud of. However, there are certain things you can't learn at Frankenstein's. One of them being how to pick someone's pocket while giving them a good night kiss.

Koopa feet handle hot volcanic rock well. Ice on the other hand, not so much. Therefore I put on the highest boots I can find, as well as an ankle-length sable coat. I wrap a scarf around my neck and put on two pairs of knitted gloves.

The Professor's private quarters are too close to the main entrance, which is why I have to sneak out the kitchen door. The corridor's wall is decorated with portraits of historical noble figures from both the Mushroom Kingdom and the Real World. Next to a tapestry depicting the tormented and ill-fated King Ignatius Koopa I Lucrezia Borgia's haughty, cold face looks down on me. I swallow, and then I exit the toasty mansion and enter a freezing, howling flurry.

My silk conducts the cold like water does electricity, and it creeps up underneath the thick fur coat, making my scales stand on edge like corn flakes. Revolting. The Real World is indeed a cold, lonely place. I begin navigating through the snow. It's powdery and light, but so deep wading in it is still heavy. According to the map I stole from the buffet where the Professor keeps our telephone the Hauptbahnhof, or Zürich HB as it is often called, is not too far from the Professor's castle. Too far away to walk to in this blizzard, but there's a bus stop next to an establishment called Épicerie de Qualité; a grocery store, that will take me to the train station.

I have about a hundred Swiss francs saved up. It's enough to get me safely into France, where there are Warp Pipes that will take me to my father's castle. Because of Switzerland's plentiful mountainous regions and rock-strewn soil, passages for Warp Pipes are very difficult to build and maintain. In Switzerland pipes are few and far between, which is why many Mushroom Kingdom fugitives and exiles set up shop here.

I climb aboard the bus and drop the necessary coins into the slot to receive a ticket to Zürich HB. No one has followed me so far, and no police cars are in sight. I warm my frozen fingers on the bus's radiator as I take my seat next to an elderly lady with shopping bags. It's getting late, and she looks tired. When she nods off I steal some bread from her bag.

I'm not running away from Putricius. It's just that I need to know what my father said about fear. If I'm reminded of this I might stop being so afraid of the things in life that we can't control, don't you think? The Professor knows a lot of things, but nothing about fear… His life experience and accumulation of powerful friends has allowed him to forget all about what it's like to be afraid and alone in the world. He promised me, a long time ago, that he'd help me achieve this. But he's better than me in everything, so I'm not sure it can be done. Not for me.

The bus ride is over, and I exit the vehicle, soon finding myself inside one of the biggest mass transit stations in the world. Usually it's not this jam-packed this time of day, but like I said, it's almost Christmas, and people and their shopping bags have places they want to go. I only have the clothes on my back, some cash, a barely genuine passport and a couple of stolen cherry croissants. I bet you never saw this coming. Ludwig von Koopa, all alone, almost broke and with a cold in its early stages.

Despite the crowdedness and immense proportions of Zurich HB I have no problem obtaining the right ticket and boarding the right train. The train from Zurich to Paris leaves at 11 pm and will arrive in Paris at 7 am, but as I enter my compartment the conductor informs that because of the heavy snowfall it might be an hour or so longer than expected.

Since I'm riding economy class (a travesty, right!?) I have to share a box with another passenger. He carries a bunch of shopping bags, a cooler and a couple of fluffy blankets tucked into the handles of a big suitcase. He seems optimistic, and he's handsome too. Despite having left that world behind for now, I can't help but thinking that such a beauty shouldn't travel unattended by someone strong and loving. And bigger than him.

"That… That's some load you're carrying," I say immediately reprimanding myself for my silly choice of words. It's just that I haven't spoken to anyone but the Professor for more than a year.

"Oh, don't worry about _that_," he says. His voice is full of laughter, and he is smiling. "The train people will mail this to Germany and Norway for me. This big one," he lifts up a metallic sparkly bag in green and red, "Is going to my friend Cosmo in San Diego."

"What is it?" I ask, curious.

"Books on advanced Asskicking, a brand new gingham bed throw and some posh-ass cat food."

Obviously this Cosmo was an old friend.

"Name is Lux," the Koopa with the rainbow-streaked Mohawk says, shaking my hand cordially. "It's nice to meet you…?"

"Ludwig," I say, and just like him I leave out my last name.

"That's pretty," Lux says. His voice is like a mug of hot chocolate. "And local. Are you from Switzerland?"

I nod after some initial pondering. "I've lived in Zurich for a year now. I'm a student of Frankenstein's Swiss chapter."

"I see. How nice."

Lux tidily does away with his luggage. There's plenty of room for it, seeing s I didn't bring anything. He makes his berth, which is across from mine, with the blankets. I just use the thin duvet and pillows provided by the train company. My fur coat _does_ make a nice bed throw, I must admit. I rest my head on my pillows; I'm so tired. I doze off, but an hour or so later I'm torn out of my sleep by my box mate. It sounds as if he dropped the lid of the cooler onto the table.

"I'm sorry," Lux says as he sees me awake. "But I was just so hungry I couldn't wait till tomorrow morning."

I clear my throat. "What time is it?"

"A little over midnight." He rummages through his cooler and takes out Norwegian head cheese, _Edamer_ cheese, mustard, some fruit and what looks like homemade white bread with poppy seeds on the table. "Are you hungry?" He asks. "If we had gotten better tickets our trip would have included supper." He smiles again, and his grey eyes sparkle. "But I doubt that even first class train food beats _this_!"

Then he makes me a sandwich. This is what I love about Europeans – they never cut the crust off their sandwiches. My brothers do, and I remember now how I told them how wasteful and immature it is to throw away the tastiest and most nutritious part of the bread.

I enjoy the head cheese and mustard sandwich offered with a mug of soft cider, as Lux explains he doesn't drink alcohol. How rare, especially given that we're on our way to the world's wine capital. I haven't eaten meat in a very long time, or sugar.

Lux has two helpings, but I feel adequately full after one. "Thanks so much" I say. Even though I managed to get away from the castle and outside the Swiss border unscathed, my nerves are working overtime, and I don't notice that Lux is studying me from the corners of his eyes until…

"You've run away, haven't you?"

The question is blunt, but Lux' voice expresses genuine concern. It allows that lump I've been hiding for a while now to jump up from the depths of my belly to the top of my throat, where it presses against the cartilage and makes my tongue feel like a lump of dough.

"Why do you ask me that?" I wonder why I feel that I owe Lux an explanation, but something Albert Einstein once said resurfaces in my mind; "_If you can't explain something simply, you don't understand it well enough_." He was right. Then again, he was right about a lot of things. Not everything, but still, a lot. I can't say that I myself completely understand what I'm doing on this train, why I'm here right now, or the events that brought me here. I just know, from an experience you can't read yourself to or buy your way into - that something awaits at the end of every journey and every adventure. Something that changes your life; maybe for the better, even.

"You're thin," Lux says. "Unnaturally thin for your bone structure. Yet you're not emaciated, suggesting your figure is the result of a painstaking dietary regime. Your coat and boots are obviously not yours, because they're the wrong size and the wrong design for your body type. Also, red is not your color and you know it. Your hairstyle is maintained regularly by a professional hair stylist, and your nails are manicured. There are tan lines on your wrist from a very pricey bracelet. "

The attractive Koopa sits down next to me. I shift, and the bracelet in in question is freed from its snag inside my silk sleeve and peeks out quite rudely.

"You come from privilege, perhaps even luxury. This bracelet was obviously commissioned especially for you by a very devoted admirer." Lux' eyes are fixed on mine. "So, why did you run away?"

I tuck my Tiffany diamond-adorned wrist out of sight. "I didn't run away. 'I just need to… figure stuff out. Stuff that…"

"…Sparkly trinkets aren't the answers to?"

Lux caresses my hair as I plop down on the pillow. For a few moments I allow the sounds of the railroad to fill in the gaps created by this awkward silence.

"All that glitters, Luddi," he says tenderly. Tears well up in my eyes.

"Diamonds are _so_ beautiful," I sob.

Lux's eyes darken. "Not beautiful enough for us."¨

His velvety soft mouth works its way down my neck, opening up my stolen sweatshirt and silk. His soft but strong hands are resting on my sides. I'm not fighting it. Even when propositioned or ravished by a stranger even, Darlings are not supposed to struggle. I allow him to touch me, not only because of my training, but… it feels both good and right. Still…

"If you want my company, you'll have to ask the Professor first," I mumble.

"Really," Lux says, unimpressed.

"He loves me… That's why you have to ask…"

But telling him this is just a formality. I want this just as badly as Lux does. He finds my aching flesh and the look of approval on his face gives me butterflies.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he opens a little round object the size of a chocolate coin.

"It's a rubber, sweetie," he informs me as he helps me roll on the latex-free resin.

"But… We are both…" I begin.

"All the more reason for the both of us to protect ourselves, Luddi," Lux purrs. "You know how to put one on, don't you?"

Actually I don't, and Lux seems to understand. He lets me demonstrate on him, not once staring at my trembling, nervous hands. "Good," he says lovingly when the barrier is in place. I get comfortable on my side and don't even fight the urge to giggle in anticipation as I feel Lux embrace me from behind, instead allowing my inner slut to surface.

"I can tell I'm not your first," my friend mumbles into my ear. He's very right, but it doesn't seem to bother him; quite the contrary.

"Will you be my _best_?" I throw him a vicious smile, but it doesn't knock him off his game.

"Undoubtedly, dearest," he says kindly.

I really enjoy how generous he is with the body oil. It allows him to penetrate me completely at the first try. It's so good to be connected to someone who cares about me and even the things about me that aren't pretty and sparkly. Feeling him climax inside of me introduces me to a whole new world of closeness I didn't even know existed. I doubt even the Professor knows.

"Thank you," I sigh as Lux withdraws his flesh from my body and embraces me. He doesn't mock at my partiality to formalities, but I do sense that he's smiling as he's kissing my ear. I fall into a deep, carefree sleep bolstered by Lux's wiry frame.

* * *

The next morning I sit up in the train's surprisingly comfortable bunk. Lux is already up, brushing his teeth. He's sitting by the window. We'll arrive in Paris in 20 minutes. It's Monday and three days left till Christmas.

"I had to give my packages to some luggage guy," Lux explains as he rubs some Rose of Bulgaria day cream on his snout. "I'm glad to see I didn't wake you up." He nuzzles me, leaving some of the sweetly scented face cream on the tip of my nose. "Did you saw enough wood to last us through winter?"

I blush, and get out of bed. The reality of what I have done is threatening the joy of being here with Lux. I'm in Paris without anything but a fur coat with a stale croissant in its pocket and a few Swiss francs I'm not sure will be accepted anywhere, and I doubt there's any point in exchanging them. According to my water-damaged map he nearest Warp Pipe is located on Boulevard St. Germain. It will bring me to the Mushroom Kingdom's Chomp Canyon, or World 6 as it's affectionately called by Humans settled in the Kingdom. From there I'm only a canon blast away from Dark Land.

"I'm borrowing my grandmother's apartment for the holidays," Lux says. "I know you have important things to do, but would you at least have breakfast with me first? The apartment is just a stone's throw away from Café de Flore."

Lux is obviously no less accustomed to the finer things in life than I am. I've only been to Café de Flore once; when my little brother Ignatius got us all thrown out before I could even sample one of their famous omelets.

"I'd love that," I say.

On the platform, however, I'm waiting for Lux to clear his luggage when he's approached by no less than three individuals. I recognize them from the Society. Oh, my. It's all clear to me now. Lux must have had a question he wanted answered, too! Maybe his grandmother knows which one. He didn't tell me. I duck behind a small mountain of suitcases and I overhear a few broken sentences through the clamoring of the crowd around us.

"I'm not coming with you." Lux stomps his feet defiantly. "I don't want to."

"… for an unsightly scene, little Darling," one of the Koopas say calmly. "You are being requested at the Headquarters."

Lux backs away, but is careful not to move in my direction. "You can't make me. I'm staying in Paris."

A group of school children blocks my view, and I don't see what one of the Koopas do to Lux' arm to make him instantly compliant. "Where is Ludwig?" the tallest of the Koopas ask. Lux just glares at him. I will never forget the look on his face.

I wish I could do more for Lux as he's lead towards a menacing limousine. I watch it drive away into the blizzard and wait until I'm absolutely sure they're out of sight. I feel hunted once again, and I have to get to Boulevard St. Germain as fast as possible. I look around. There are throngs everywhere; lines in every exit. I'm scouring the area for the least crowded one when someone places their hand on my shoulder. I exhale quite audibly.

It's Headmin himself. I'm dumbfounded.

He doesn't look angry, but his hand is heavy and firm, even on my thick coat. "Paris in December," he says. "Resist _that_ temptation."

I have to ask. "Sir, why are you here when… your Darling is somewhere else?"

Headmin leads me to a bench away from the drafty exits. "You know, Ludwig," he sits next to me. His lamb's wool coat smells like brandy and leather. "Professor Putricius called me when he noticed you weren't home anymore. Oh, Ludwig, he is _so_ worried about you. The temperature fell below -22 degrees. You could have frozen to death."

I'm ashamed. It was stupid, I know.

"You've been in the Society for two years now, Ludwig. I'm aware of your popularity among Darlings and Admins alike." His handsome head hovers above my unkempt one. "Did any of them ever tell you about the consequences a Darling might face if he were to abscond from his Admin's side without permission?"

Tears well up in my face, and the lump of shame returns. "N-no," I sob.

"I thought as much," Headmin replies, voice silky soft and dangerous. "Because in the 250 year history of the Society no such incident has ever taken place." He recognizes the look of terror on my face.

"But it's not entirely your fault, Ludwig. Lux has rebelled against me for some time. The odds that you'd both pick the same evening to commit dereliction against your respective contracts… Well, it's why I love science so much."

I tremble, but it's not because I'm cold. "I swear I didn't mean to hurt the Professor. You have to believe me, sir. I love him."

"He loves you too and wants you home where you belong." Headmin inspects my arms for track marks – a lot of Darlings have histories of drug use. It says in the contract that one of an Admin's tasks is to clean you up if you're on something. I don't have any marks. But Headmin still remarks with a soft, but kind voice: "You're injured. The world can be dangerous."

Indeed it can. "I… how did you find us?" I ask, both because of my curiosity and to change the subject.

I don't notice that custodians of The Society have approached us until one of them placed a hand on the back of the bench.

"Well," Headmin says with a dry smile, "The Society wouldn't have lasted for 250 years if we Admins were oblivious to the challenges endured by our Darlings, would we?"

"I guess not," I reply.

"That's why we, just like Frankenstein's, have chapters in all the major cities. Remember, the Society is not supposed to be a prison. It's a network meant to take excellent care of those of us who search for love. Anyone can find the love they deserve in our Society, and the supply will never run out. That's a promise."

One of the caretaker Admins remove my purloined coat and replaces it with one more fitting, without fur. My shoulders slump and I feel so defeated. "Headmin," I say. Normally only Admins are allowed to address him by this name, but I don't know his real name. Not anymore. "Why can't I talk to my father? Just for a moment?"

Headmin signals to the others that they begin leading me towards a much safer, more comfortable place. "Because whatever you need to remember will come back to you when the time is right. I reckon."

I hope so but it doesn't.

This was not my first escape.


	9. Whining and Dining

**Longest chapter yet. It was a challenge to write, but a lot of fun, too. You'll love the revelation in this one! A big thanks to Miss Kittenberg for letting me use her character, _Prinzessin_ Lavender. She really helped tying up some loose ends... and unravelling new ones. Well, that's just Lavender for you. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Of course, I, like my dearest Darling Iggy, has realized the benefits of appreciating the features, qualities and talents of both sexes. In fact, one of my most cherished memories is the rendezvous I shared with one of my lab partners from Frankenstein's.

I offered Princess Lavender of Sarasaland, the younger cousin of Princess Daisy, a job as creative consultant for the launch of the original _Dr. Wolfie's _line. She accepted, but not because she needed employment.

"We need a less cutesy mascot for the protein bar line," Miss Kittenberg says as she approaches the whiteboard.

Nastasia frowns. "But this Chargin' Chuck mascot will make it harder for consumers to realize that they both represent the same brand."

Miss Kittenberg ponders for a minute, and then rises from her seat, giving her vicious, white cat a few strokes. "We could make them into a couple of some kind. Tone down their most sexist attributes and imply a synergy between the two and their respective products. Positive energy and happiness, with a touch of iron."

Frankie Pianta, our resident Lothario, lays his massive, burly hands on Miss Kittenberg's hips and presses his considerable body against her back, so she can't avoid feeling his bulge, which I can only guess from the look of disgust on Miss Kittenberg's pale, stone-like face, is offensive. "A touch of iron. I like that," he rasps into her ear.

"Shocker," she replies tersely and slaps his hands away. I, like everybody else around the table, is just relieved she didn't stab him with her telescope pointer. Miss Kittenberg is one of those beauties you look at and admire, but never, ever touch. Ever.

* * *

Later at home, after launching both the _15 Hour Power Energy Drink _Girl and the _Burly Barley Bar_ Chargin' Chuck onto an unsuspecting world, I decide to take a little walk in my garden. I see several Cuties sit in one of the gazebos, enjoying the shade that keeps their scales pale and soft like lemon taffy. I'm not an Admin yet. Headmin is processing my application right now, and a habitat is being constructed for Iggy, who is, for the time being, kept in the Darling conservatory, safely drugged to the gills. It's not the pills next to his sandwich that's the problem. What's in his milk, then? Well, you know. To prove myself worthy as an Admin I have to pass a nurturing test which consists of taking care of a bunch of Cuties; called _Schönlinge_ where they originate from. Ostensibly they belong to the Koopa species, but I have a sneaking suspicion they are the product of a ghastly, but ultimately successful experiment. Caring for a Cutie and caring for a Darling is like comparing picking dead leaves from a yucca to open heart surgery. All Cuties require is a few simple chores, simple education and their own space where they can create and indulge in prettiness with their easy-going, simple peers. Darlings require nothing but perfection. If I fail to properly provide for and nurture a Darling will lead to his immediate departure, and my utter romantic, social and professional humiliation and dishonor. Luckily the Society provides suicide katanas. How can anyone resist such a beautiful prospect?

A Cutie catches up with me by the rose maze; it's Primel. Yes, all his brethren are named after flowers; perennial flowers. I keep him occupied as a valet. He's like an animated _Punschkrapfen_, with his large, violet eyes, rosy cheeks and fluffy green waves. I'm not sure what I'd prefer; eat him or fuck him. If I fuck him first, I'll taste both him and myself when dining on him. How's _that_ for delicious? Hmm… Headmin would likely frown upon both, though. And that would be a crying shame.

"_Doktor_ Ludwig," Primel says in his delicate, squeaky voice. "_Ein Fraulein_ is requesting to speak with _Sie_."

I don't get that many lady visitors outside my office hours. "Who?"

"_Prinzessin_ Lavender, _Mein Herr,"_ the Cutie says with a little curtsy, just as adorable as his Pomeranian-German accent.

I sigh. I know why she's here, and it's better to just get it over with. "Tea for _zwei_," I tell the Cutie. "Show Lavender into my private quarters, and return to your English studies."

"_Unmittelbar_, _Doktor_." The Cutie skips out on his heart-shaped, pedicured feet. Lavender arrives two minutes before the tea, and two minutes after I put on a padded robe over my puffy shirt and silk breeches.

We sip our hot tea by the window. Princess Lavender nibbles on cucumber and potted meat sandwiches. I'm indulging in the sweet taste of the Cuties' own recipe_ Punschkrapfen._ When I lived at Sarasa Castle as a young Koopa the _Prinzessin_ and I had tea together every day, more out of convenience than anything else, as we worked together on many a scientific endeavor.

"Another slice of _Julekake_, _Prinzessin_?" I ask her.

She puts her cup down. "No. What I would like is for you to stop this expensive cold shoulder you've been giving the world and come back to the University."

I groan. "I will not listen to this again, Lavender."

"Please," she insists. "Your gifts are going to waste, and you know it. A genius such as yourself should be spearheading progress, not market frozen foods!" She bites down on her lip. "Remember presenting our _W.I.S.S.E.N.B.L.A.G_ Repentance Inducer at the International Weird Science Symposium? Every scientific community, apart from one, of course, said we were making the world a better place!"

I pour myself some more tea and add another slice of lemon into my cup that I doubt any amount of sugar will sweeten. Sour grapes are sour, after all. "It's frozen foods, energy food and instant hot drinks now, actually. Very soon the Dr. _Wolfie_ \- line will include cake mixes, snack foods and soft drinks. The Haterade Company calls us every day. People love _Dr. Wolfie_, you see. Some perverts on the internet even made a hentai comic about him. Sickos or not, it feels nice to give the masses what they want."

I stop talking, because Lavender looks as if she's about to cry. She puts her napkin on the table. "I'm sorry I bothered you, Ludwig. I will leave you now." She gets up. "I wish you all the best…"

"No, no," I say softly, and grab her shoulders. "Please stay for dinner. I will have Lor and Primel make the bed in the guest suite for you. Tomorrow is Friday and Boom-Boom will return with the car. I'll drive you to the Hauptbahnhof _Meinself_."

Lavender sits back down. "I appreciate that, Ludwig. Thank you very much."

* * *

Cuties Kristrose, Lor, Primel, Rain and Mallow gather around me as I sit down in their comfy little pillow pile. A Darling would give me his full attention, but these hardly acknowledge my arrival; the charming, ungrateful little jewels. Only Primel skootches over to me while smiling respectfully.

"_Guten_ evening, _Mein Herr_," he says. He wears a padded robe that's a little too big for him, and has fresh nail polish. He hands me a science textbook especially designed for Cuties, still with that bow-lipped smile. I greatly fear that returning him to the Headquarters will hurt like a son of a bitch.

Lapses in decorum aside, their tribes are always patriarchal. Cuties have an 80% male, 20% female gender ratio, and it's pretty much impossible to tell them apart. Females consistently lack language, but this trait occurs in males also. Muteness is most often observed in males with blue eyes. My wards are all male; of them, sapphire-eyed Kristrose was born without vocal chords and also deaf in one ear. He is very sensitive to light and noise, so I have him taking care of the rainforest section of my winter garden. Right and they sit quietly and pay attention when I, the head honcho speak.

"…So, Humans will end their _Kurisumasu_ celebration with a great burning of wrapping paper and forgotten gift certificates. Don't touch my peach rings. Don't _ever_ touch my peach rings. Now, these fires are very shortsighted, because paper doesn't burn for very long and although Humans insist on celebrating Yule in the middle of the freezing winter, everybody wears sheer dresses and pantyhose."

"I celebrated _Kurisumasu_ once," Mallow says. He's the airheaded one of the bunch, relatively speaking, and usually needs a nap after signing his name, which has pointy letters. And yes, he is a blond. Natural, even. "I ate six turkey butts."

"I'm so happy for you," Rain says, blinking his amber eyes slowly. "The butt is the best part of any bird."

Say no more, I think to myself. If I said it, they would likely become overexcited. Dirty talk is like candy to Cuties.

* * *

After reading I find all my charges are all asleep, nestled up together. I head over to my own bedroom and lie down in the impressive four-poster. It was made by a descendant of the carpenter that made Catherine the Great's bed and contains her genuine linen, for good luck in certain departments. I'm not really tired. I watch KNN's economy channel. _Dr. Wolfie_ is in the top ten worldwide. Beautiful.

There's a single knock, and then the _Prinzessin_ enters. She wears a long, sheer lavender blue robe in chiffon over her corset. I had no idea the aristocracy of Sarasaland still practiced tight-lacing.

"Good evening, Lavender," I say, turning the television off.

Schätzen Manor is imbued with love magic. It's in the brickwork, the wallpaper, the flowers, the drapes… It's a feminine energy and a thing of beauty. When it enters a guest they immediately seek out the proprietor of the manor house, and yes, it is their duty to satisfy their caller.

"Ludwig," she says as she sits down next to me. "Is there absolutely no way I can persuade you to return to Frankenstein's?"

I really enjoy her hand on my chest. It's so warm and fragrant. I take it up, and kiss it softly, like a gentlekoopa.

"None whatsoever, my sweet love."

She then removes her robe. I'm impressed – she used to be as flat as an ironing board and obsessed about her freckles and thick glasses. Now her décolletage is impressive, and even more when she unhooks the first couple of clasps of the busk of her corset, allowing them to billow forth.

"Oh my," I say, and give her right, bristling nipple a casual pinch with my thumb and the side of my index finger. "All this would have been mine if I returned to university with you."

"It will be yours for the night," Lavender purrs. "A parting gift." She straddles me, allowing me to taste her neck before she kisses my forehead. Her hands are buried in my hair, something I have the feeling she's been longing to do for years. I'm very certain that the majesty of my royal blue mane was Lavender's introduction to certain desires - those of the flesh, and those of the soul, even. When we were children , she used her title to manipulate me into allowing her to touch my hair, but I would always say no. Now, however, I see no reason to withhold my unmatched splendor from her. Her grip tightens as I move my mouth down her neck, towards her breasts. I run my tongue over her nipple, and she gasps, but does not let go of my hair. My name is whispered breathlessly.

"Ludwig…"

There is no going back, Liebste. I also remove my robe, but my silk breeches will have to wait. My mouth accepts more and more of Lavender's right breast until engulfing it completely, and she moans and swears… After I've taken my time with them I gaze upon them with a little smile on mein face. They are pink and rare with my… treatment, yes. She pushes me into the pillows and begins kissing her way down my chest and stomach. It tickles devilishly, and my breath is raspy and beyond my control. Her beautiful nails are resting on the considerable bulge in my silk breeches – I almost can't believe how hard it is; like a rock. I'm almost insane with lust, but opening the front of this garment is a challenge indeed.

During my years at Frankenstein's all the members of my Geniuses of Tomorrow-crowd would dress in these garments at our weekly assembly. Laymen may have called our weekly gathering at our frat house's carpeted media room an "orgy", but it was merely another way for us to strengthen our sense of community. Anyway, the fly of our silk breeches were constructed to be as difficult to open as possible. We'd pair up and unhook, unbutton and unlace each other's breeches with a slow-burning determination. And then, of course, make love. Imagine two dozen very handsome and incredibly brilliant young males loving each other with their bodies on a pink carpeted floor. It tickles you, too, doesn't it? I learned, almost too early, how a male's satisfaction looks, feels, and tastes like. No, Putricius wasn't my first. My first was a muscularly built, outrageously handsome Koopa two years my senior, Lemmykov, who swore gutturally in Russian with each and every one of his formidable, but sincerely loving thrusts. I remember not being able to tear my eyes of his godlike face, even when I ejaculated all over his lap.

Lavender first unlaces the top flap, which takes time, seeing as it's laced up pretty tight. I'm surrounded 24 hours a day by some of, if not the most beautiful members of my species. These breeches are a precaution. When she finally pulls the loose flap aside, the busk underneath awaits, which has to be unhooked one at a time as to not damage the precious fabric. My heart is racing, and mein _Schwanz _is so engorged with hot blood I'm worried it might rip the silk as it springs forward. If it does, I don't know, because Lavender's soft, heart-shaped mouth is wrapped around its head the moment the opportunity… arises.

"Ahh, yes…" I say, teasing her. "How you've longed for the taste of this, _Prinzessin_…"

I wonder how long I can hold it back. My guess is perhaps 125 seconds. It's not just the feeling of the _Prinzessin's_ tongue and soft palate; she really digs in, short-circuiting my flesh rocket's very sensitive nerve endings, but the sight, and feel of her cute lips when they meet its base. There's also the glistening coat of her saliva when she raises those lips to its tip to consider, a short chill before being submerged in the moist warmth of her sweet mouth once more.

"Ahh… The _Prinzessin_ hungers for richer food than tea sandwiches, ja…"

This makes her pick up the pace. It's no longer a question of self-control. My testes are at the final limit of volume and now need to void themselves of their fluids. First I release a spurt of pre-ejaculate to prepare the young princess' royal palate. Then she can watch as my soft bag withdraws and expands… Withdraws and expands… as a gush of piping hot love cream is spurted from the tip of my flesh and into her mouth.

"Ahh, _Schei__βe!"_ I roar and follow up with a growl that makes the princess giggle.

She enthusiastically swallows it, and the drops that escape her lips are rubbed over her proudly erect nipples. It's electric; no, more than electric – like sitting on a power line. I might have revealed some secrets of the state during my explosive climax.

"My insight into the female psyche…" I say, panting, "…tells me that you enjoyed that."

"What gave it away?" Princess Lavender says with a devious smile, kissing semen off my stomach. Mein _Schwanz_ is slowly going limp, but she can't get enough of it… I watch, enthralled, as she kisses it and rubs it against her face _sehr glücklich_.

* * *

"Ahh… Ohh…"

The beautiful, young lady with the blonde hair groaned breathily as the two long-nailed fingers of her brunette mistress were slowly thrusted in and out of her two holes. The latter's other hand was busy massaging her well-maintained, fair-haired bush, and her tongue circled her lady's nipples in a figure eight. Clock-wise, counter-clockwise…

Princess Lavender had only heard them the first time, and decided to spy on them to confirm what she had already guessed – that Peach and Daisy were members of the female division of the Gilded Cage Society. Now she saw it – and recorded it – from a very safe vantage point; the mountain of stuffed animals in the corner of Daisy's room.

Peach lay down in the bed, sweaty, but no less gorgeous golden waves splayed over the pillows. She alternated between stroking Daisy's hair as she licked her lovely honey pot and giving her a gentle lick with her riding crop when her Darling licked her in the wrong place, or not fast enough. Daisy teased Peach's clit with the tip of her index finger until it was erect like a man's tool. After a few minutes of determined tongue treatment Peach's face curled with pleasure, and she loudly announced her satisfaction.

"Thank you," she said to Daisy in a formal tone, which, considering what had just happened was ironic.

Daisy sat up while Peach remained lounging on the bed. Her brown hair was worn in a lose bun, and the only thing resembling a garment on her body was two silver pasties with a chain between them, secured at the middle with an ornate padlock, the key to which was in her mistress' charm bracelet. Peach stood up, and fastened a trailing bustle of pink silk around her waist, not bothering to cover up neither her shapely breasts, nor her happy place as she walked out on the balcony.

Daisy followed her. "What is troubling you, Madame?" she asked, brushing away the golden lock that obscured her lady's nipple.

"Well…" Peach began. "Oh, I really shouldn't be bothering you with this, my sweet."

Daisy took her hand and placed it between her breasts, which were as shapely, but not as large as Peach's. "Oh, no, Madame, don't worry about me. Lay all that makes your heart heavy on my ears, please."

Peach drew little circles on Daisy's butt with the tip of her nails. "Well… The black love magic that was cast by Count Bleck dictates that I must have an audience King Bowser once a year. We must honor our unholy vows… with carnal knowledge… Lest our worlds be destroyed."

Daisy gasped. "But I thought that curse was lifted upon the Count's defeat!"

The blonde princess sighed. "It was the will of the Dark Prognosticus, not just the Count, my sweet. Tomorrow I must travel to Kastle Koopa… and become one with the King for two days."

She smiled, though. "Don't worry." They sat down in the large hammock on the sunset balcony. "The King is quite talented."

"Really?" Daisy covered her lips with her fingers, enjoying the juicy confessions. "Please tell, Madame!"

The female Admin unlocked her Darling's nipples and began rubbing them in with some of her delicious juices. "King Koopa… ohh, the feeling of him entering me from behind… I feel so deliciously debased and filthy."

She embraced her Darling Daisy from behind, opening her legs as they sat in the cushy hammock. She dragged her fingers playfully down Daisy's stomach, kissing her earlobe.

"What about when he fucks Mistress in the ass, then?" Daisy asked, being rewarded with teasing caresses to her swollen labia.

"That's when she's again convinced that nightly pleasures prove existence of the divine."

Daisy's voice revealed the hunger for erotic satisfaction. Peach, quick as a fox, dipped her finger in Daisy's love patch and rubbed the fluids into the little poof of auburn curls with an exquisite finger. …"Ahh…!"

"What was that, my dear?" Peach asked, tenderly, but a certain level of severity definitely present.

"What… is King Koopa's favorite position?"

This question earned her the long-yearned-for massage, and two fingers in her tight little asshole. It was perfect…

"Why, the sideways entry, of course, so he can alternate between my holes as he pleases. Next question."

Daisy was desperate; wanting it to last, but also to please her mistress at the same time. She needed to think of a good question, quickly.

"Where on the Mistress' corpus does the King of Koopas evacuate his love fluid?"

Savoring the memories and hardly being able to control her anticipation, Peach formed the answer. "Often in the hole he is penetrating at the moment. At the end of our two-day session, in the Mistress' mouth and across her neck and bosom. Very good," she praised and rubbed Daisy's puffy clit until the latter started yelping with pleasure. Peach was very pleased with feeling her Darling squirting on her hand and the force with which her pelvic muscles contracted. The intensity of Daisy's orgasms was ever increasing, and she was getting better at controlling them. Peach couldn't wait for the Headmin of the female chapter to assign the next addition to their love repertoire.

"King Koopa must be an awesome lover," Daisy said drowsily.

"He is," Peach said tenderly as she leaned over Daisy in the wicker hammock. They often spent the night out on the balcony, and the hot desert night made any covering unnecessary. "But you're the one who loves me, Daisy. That's _fantastic_."

* * *

The _Prinzessin_ has been stroking and caressing my _Schwanz_ during the entirety of this homemade feature, which is why it's been slowly regaining its power. I won't deny or deprive her of its glory.

"They made love every day that summer," Lavender sighs. "But I only filmed them this once. I sort of… violated their rights by making this one."

She would probably die from utter joy watching some of the _violations_ in my own home video collection.

"So," I ask nonchalantly as I position her on top of me. "Would the _Prinzessin_ like me to… dress for the occasion?"

She pouts pettily. "By law, royals are not allowed to use barriers when exchanging carnal knowledge, Ludwig."

"Really. That's fascinating," I say, smirking. It can't be helped."

Her face puckers up as I rub the engorged head of my flesh against her clit. Her pelvic floor is strong for someone who's allegedly a virgin. "Yeaahhh…" she sighs. "Oh, Ludwig! Please…! I order you to fuck me!"

She ranks above me, so I obey her. The muscles of her love hole create a vacuum, almost too much for me to handle. "Aaachh, Scheiße!" I snarl under my breath. "Ohh, _jaahhh_…" I think I'm enjoying it even more than her, if it's possible. My cock glistens with the Prinzessin's royal fluids, and in the light from the fireplace it truly looks divine. More of it pours down my shaft, getting caught in the hairs.

"Is _this_ to the _Prinzessin's_ approval?" I growl as the potency of my thrusts increases. I grab her buttocks and part them, to accommodate a deeper penetration, and to allow the bulging veins of my _Schwanz_ to rub against the princess' Gräfenberg spot.

She emits an ever loudening shrieking noise, and sweat beads down from her temples to her breasts. "Oohhh! Ohh, Ludwig! Come inside me…!"

"Aaahhh, mein _Prinzessin_…" Even through the heavenly pleasure that's stupefying my brilliant mind I manage to tease her. "Ahh… the royal whore…"

Her pulsating musculature accommodates my own spine-splitting climax, and I pour a considerable volume of buttery seminal fluid into her vaginal orifice. It gets even more earth-rattling when Lavender declares mein _Mutter_ a filthy _Schlampe_, who apparently conceived me with the aid of a thousand Koopas, none of them royal.

We lay there, in a mess of velvet cushions and linen pillows, panting and sweating, bodies still connected. Indeed it was considered a sin among royals to spill royal seed; one big enough to lose one's head for. Then again, as was adultery – if there's _one_ entirely legitimate descendant on my father's side, I'm gonna eat my _Groβonkel_'s monocle. I'm not worried about adding unsightly sprouts to the family tree. What I slipped into Lavender's tea ensures that won't happen.

"So," I ask, kissing her neck tenderly. "Who was it, then? The drunken barber or the unsavory motion picture-addicted minister?"

Lavender smiles, a little viciously, as it were. "You descend from all of them, Ludwig. Even Professor Pervert who loved his gorgeous male apprentices _way_ too much."

I smirk and move my mouth to her shoulder. "Fascinating. And very enlightening, my dear."

"Yeah…" Lavender falls asleep to my soft kisses.

Lavender is a heavy sleeper, so I avoid waking her up as I head into the shower. Today is a very big day. Iggy will be introduced to his new home. His godfathers at the Conservatory, admins Heinrich von Übelkeit-Kotze and his colleague, Friedrich Haβenswert zu Schimmel-Spitze, will escort him here. I want this manor more spotless than a newborn Dalmatian, which is why the Goomba and Shy Guy maids have one duster in each hand and, where applicable, their mouth. I order two, however, to drop everything and make breakfast.

Wearing my most fabulous coat; in plum velvet and with gold needlepoint, I powder my hair and return to my bedchamber, where Lavender is seated at the vanity. Kristrose is lacing the _Prinzessin's_ corset while she's combing her hair. I don't like the look on the Cutie's face; it's a little too inquisitive for my taste. "You may resume your workday now," I tell him. "You did good."

Lavender puts her crown on, and I give her a tour of the parts of Schätzen Manor that are charted. I discover too late that the maid crew has left the door to my private library open. Iggy's habitat is bare for all the world to see. The Prinzessin at least, who immediately strides into it for a closer look. "What in the Real World is this?"

I clear my throat. "Ah, now, this… This is where we'll be shooting the commercial for the Dr. Wolfie's Decadent Dairy Drops chocolates."

Her eyes are fixed on a half-closed drawer in Iggy's white and gold bureau that's packed with a rather diverse collection of restraints, silk scarves and the kind of medical instruments that are intended for… relaxation purposes. It's obvious that she doesn't believe me. But it doesn't seem as though she's judging me either.

"I'm sorry Ich can't be the Koopa you want me to be." I lock the door to the library and lead Lavender back downstairs to the main entrance. "But you habst to believe that I'm content with the new direction in which my life is moving…" I give her a soft kiss, to the joy of the princess and the Cuties walking by with their books.

"…And that last night was the most wonderful I've had in years."

Lavender takes her purse and umbrella from the Shy Guy servant and heads out into the Schätzen Manor's square. As promised, Boom-Boom has returned with my Town Car, and opens the door for her. She turns toward me, smiling sweetly. "I _do_ believe that, Ludwig." Her eyes rest on the furniture that's being unloaded from the truck that's parked in the courtyard. Lavender is brilliant, and I know she can tell that this feminine, flowery ware is so different from the more masculine mahogany and leather furniture already in my home, it's meant for someone else. She just smiles.

"I also think you should do whatever makes you happy."

After escorting Lavender to the good old Hauptbahnhof and waving goodbye I immediately make a visit to one of Zürich's many flower shops and have the clerk make an arrangement of pink and white poppies; Iggy's favorite. Ah, how sweet they smell.

I think I will have made a lot of my friends very much indeed happy by bedtime tonight,_ ja._


	10. For Remembrance

**A breather chapter. But it does have its moments, you sweet Darlings, you.**

* * *

I've missed this room, and soon I'll miss it more, but I understand that it's all for the best. I sit down and route through Ludwig's stash of entertainment tapes, like I always do when he's not at home. Boom - Boom is supposed to guard my every step when I'm home alone, but I managed to shake him off by the Cutie psychology wing in the Schätzchen Library. I'm such a clever Darling, am I not? Clever and oh-so resourceful?

I hid in here the other day to get out of home tutoring. The philosophy professor Ludwig just hired; Herr Leopold von und zu Dämmerschlaf-Prellung is such a bore and wasn't told that I polished off all the names on his curriculum ten years ago.

"Chaucer, Fowles, Proust, Shakespeare and of the course more common and even household authors; you name them, I've read their works." I tell the professor, who is distinguished but still quite attractive. He probably hikes a lot in the mountains to stay this lean and toned. Von Prellung is one of those Admins who can silence you with a mere glance from under his powerful, silver-infused eyebrows. I count the gems on the palladium ring on his left middle finger without staring directly at it. He has cared for a total of nine Darlings, but only five of them, the diamonds, romantically. Three are emeralds of them are emeralds; platonic ones, but entitled to their Admin's hand nonetheless. And one is a ruby… I don't remember what that stands for. My Godfathers cared for me in a platonic way, but I never felt that anything was missing, which means they did their job.

"Pray, elaborate," he says. His voice is a little sharp.

"Their ideas are powerful, but their originators' diffidence, if I the Darling may use such a big word, is obvious. When reading my way through their titles like a worm devouring an apple it began to become noticeable the same way honey becomes bitter if you eat too much of it, and a while later insufferable, like poison."

Professor von Prellung rises from his seat. "Poison, you say, Herr Koopa?"

I give him a smile, cold and vicious. "Yes, sir. Poison, sweet and true, but poison all the same. Why should I bother myself with the ponderings of dead white males when there are patents to be invented and profited from? Why should anyone?"

My dear teacher clicks his tongue and approaches me. "I can, as your professor, condone independent thought, but not this spitting on a young man's cultural heritage." He snaps his manicured claws sternly, and points at his desk. I get up and wander on my tippy toes over to it, bending over. He uses his telescope pointer to pull my robe aside, careful not to stain the silk with palm sweat.

For my impertinence, the professor gives me five well-aimed licks over my perfect little bottom. He must have done this before. Ludwig must really consider philosophy and literature quite important as none of my other tutors are allowed to discipline me. All I can do is sigh – while professional from head to toe, professor von Prellung enjoys "teaching" me a bit too much. Still it's obvious to me that this is a determined one. I'm not going to scare him away with mind games. Hmm. Has Headmin warned him in advance, I wonder? My behavior _has_ been rather rebellious as of late.

I turn around and pout at him. His attractive face is like stone, but softens as my eyes are allowed to latch on to his.

"There is more to life than profits, _Herr_ Koopa. I'm not here to bore you with musty old books. I'm here to instill a desire in you for enlightenment and the _bildung_ of character."

I blush and giggle like a Cutie that's being flattered by a weeaboo as I approach him. "Professor, do you currently have a Darling of your own?" I blurt out – I'm not the one to beat around the bush. I figure Herr von Prellung is patient enough to deal with my bluntness.

No, not currently, _Herr_ Koopa. _Ich_ retired from caring for Darlings a couple of years ago."

"Really." I stand in front of my habitat's fireplace, making sure the professor can see the silhouette of my perfect, sculpted legs through the silk. He does. And it tickles me. "Don't you miss it?"

His eyes darken for a moment. After all, we're here to discuss Wittgenstein, not our sentiments. But he sits down in my cream and gold armchair, where the cold winter can't reach a person. "Yes, I do miss it sometimes." He pauses, drinking some of his tea. "_Mein Haus_ had this fuzzy, cozy feeling to it whenever a Darling was in it. The _Schönlinge_ I currently employ do a great job at making it homey, yes, but…"

"…They don't challenge you," I finish. "_Mein Herr_," I add. "But you still have lots of love and guidance to give, which is why you've chosen to spend your retirement making house calls like these."

I sit down on the armrest and sliding down, I am now in professor von Prellung's lap. I don't weigh all that much, so that can't be why he looks at me like that. He's so conservatively dressed in his designer suit and all, even more so than Ludwig. The collar of his shirt is starched to a razor sharp perfection. But it comes open, once I, well, open it. He doesn't make any attempts to stop me, either. He sneaks glances at my pretty shoulders peeking up from my modest robe. He might be a man of mind rather than matter, but not even he can resist the charm of a very young Darling.

He's holding his breath as I lean over and begin kissing his neck, first only with my lips, then allowing the tongue to moisten the scales. Admins don't wear aftershave. It melts my heart to find out that von Prellung still doesn't, although he's retired from his Admin duties and totally free to do so. He's gasping slightly, from outrage, but I have good ears; there is some lust in there as well.

"…Such impropriety…" he mutters under his breath. So why is he reclining into the chair's upholstery, making himself more comfortable as my hungry little mouth finds his? I chuckle.

"You must have been one hell of an Admin, sir."

His deep, dark eyes say: "_You don't know half of it, _Herr_ Koopa_."

According to Lux, Darlings are, unlike Admins, allowed to have as many bed friends as they like. Mine and Ludwig's contract doesn't explicitly state I can't – I have a feeling Ludwig must have thought it was implied. Anyway, professor von Prellung is amazing. I've started something he appears quite content to finish. Being such a class act and all, he insists we take it over to my bed.

I've never left Ludwig's bedroom disappointed and I don't see how anyone could. But professor von Prellung is not simply "doing" me, no; he's making love to me, in a way that only decades of experience combined with true passion and devotion makes possible. I'm not sure if I myself truly understand what is really happening. All I can do as von Prellung loves me like I so needed to be loved is to bury my hands in his hair. The butterflies in my slender little stomach make my fingers twitch.

"Don't worry about pulling," von Prellunfg says, voice now quivering with desire. "I can take it."

"Of course you can," I add a growl to my sweet voice. "Because you're sooo very strong."

How wonderful it would be if the ever so brilliant professor flipped me over like he did to prove how strong he really is! I can't help but treating him to a crazed little laughter as I feel him about to make me his for realsies.

"Careful, sir, please," I say, and hope my eyes are adequately large and sparkly behind my glasses. "I'm, like, so delicate and pure."

"Of course you are," is his dry response. Ohh, how good he fucks me! This is Ludwig's longest business trip yet, and although we agreed on it in advance three weeks of no nookie is a lot to ask of anyone. Luckily my shakes are now being satisfied by an apparent genius in this department. Von Prellung is in amazing shape and quite happy to show it off. With every thrust his warm hands massage my hips, allowing more nerve endings the sensation of his bulbous, veiny appendage. Mist on his forehead forms into drops, which land on my skin.

"Ohh, daddy, that is sooo _good_!" I groan as I reach the peak of pleasure. My teacher turned bed friend turns me around to allow me to suck him off, as most Darlings do not allow others than their Admins to cream on the inside. Fortunately for the good professor I love this, which really helped me reach this level of skill. As I concentrate solely on paying the professor back for this mind-blowing session, he rests a tender hand on my head. His sense of culture and gentle nature does not, however, prevent the expulsion of a few profanities; German ones, of course, that would challenge even Ludwig's substantial range along with his smooth, flavorful essence.

Normally bed friends are expected to leave a Darling's bedroom immediately after, but I allow him to spend some time pillow talking me up. After 'bedtime' I always feel vulnerable and a little scared, actually. Most Darlings do, and it's one of the things you'll find your Admin taking care of by spooning you gently, yet allowing you your space. And from the way von Prellung's wrist is hung over my hip, I can tell that it's just one of the many things he must miss about Adminship.

"Ich had a Darling once," he divulges. I'm not the jealous type at all and don't mind hearing about my bed friends' other conquests. "Mein first, many Jahren ago. He was like you – like fire. Beautiful and dangerous."

"I like him already," I back-talk. "Was he an opportunist too?"

"Oh, _Mein_, yes," von Prellung says, and I can hear that he's smiling. "He completed my life. I can see, from youtemperament that you fulfill _Herr_ von Koopa's life."

"Well…" I tuck the pillow under my cheek. "That's sort of my life's work, professor."

Von Prellung is playing with my hair. It feels nice to be petted like a cat, and I can feel his pensiveness through his slow strokes. I just remembered what the ruby symbolizes. That's so sad.

"Would you like some fresh tea, Mein Herr?" I ask. Normally I'd ask Kristrose to take care of it, but I don't need him gossiping to his entire little Cutie clique at the Fumblr-network. He may not be able to speak, but he can write, and boy, does he ever have a way with words.

"Thank you, yes." Von Prellung is obviously not ready to get up just yet. Besides, my bed is crazy comfortable.

I look through my tea boxes on my personal mantelpiece. "How do you take it again, sir?"

"Black tea, piping hot, no sugar, please," is his response, which I feel compelled to comment on.

"Why no sugar?" I pour hot water over the tea strainer. "You could use some more sugar in your life, sir."

When I give the professor his tea, he returns my favor with a kiss that reminds me that the sweetest things life has to offer do not come in the form of little white cubes. I've been such an ignorant little Koopaling. Von Prellung is an _incredible_ teacher.

Afterwards I sit in the foot end of my bed with my knees under my chin and stare into the fire while von Prellung gets dressed. He doesn't look so stiff and correct now that I've sucked all the starch out of his shirt. But it's more than that. He looks relaxed and more approachable. Treating me as an equal is his punishment for making his heart unavailable to Darlings.

"You did exceptional work today, Herr Koopa," he says as Boom-Boom shows up to escort him out. "Ich have left you a list of books I'd like you to read. Read, and not just look at the words."

"Yes, professor," I reply, enjoying that little glimmer in von Prellung's eyes. Never have I been happier to hear that I have much to learn.


	11. Lovely Lovely Ludwig von

**You're gonna _love_ this!**

* * *

Bored out of my cute little mind I rest my chin in my hand as Primel French tips my toes. "Will you be done anytime soon?" I do this to tease him as I certainly am aware of the top coat's need to dry completely before I go anywhere. The other Cuties are decorating Schätzen Manor for Christmas, and they are all wearing big, fluffy 80s-style Christmas sweaters. Ridiculous, yes, but they make said Cuties look even cutie-er.

Ludwig, being a Barbarian and all, is observant of the Yuletide celebration. I wish I knew why the holidays are so important to him. He texted me this morning from Ralph Lauren, wondering about my bracelet size, so I suppose he's started shopping for presents. Wonder what he'll get me this year. We Darlings finished our Christmas shopping weeks ago during our annual Halloween masquerade with the Tooth and Nail Society, the Frankenstein Darling league, situated on Manhattan. No, we did not bribe some security guards after Thanksgiving – most of us are quite content buying things at retail price rather than forfeiting our lives in a Black Friday stampede, thank you. Except, of course, for Tipper. That poor, porcelain-scaled bastard.

"Not just yet, Mein Darling-Herr," Primel says as he removes the cotton from between my toes. He is wearing a dark blue hand-made sweater with green and red Christmas tree baubles knitted in glittery wool appliqued to the front, as well as a silver tinsel garland around his head. He's my favorite Cutie since Wawwy was formally adopted by the Society's retired Godfathers. In between decorating and chattering with his conspecifics in their native tongue, "_The best thing about Christmas is that we can decorate with _stars_!"_ he dips a big candy cane in his rocky road hot chocolate. He's like a little elf.

I hear the main entrance door opening, and Ludwig's footsteps, which I have known since I was a toddling little one. He's stomping the snow off his boots on the floor the Cuties just cleaned and waxed in honor of the season. I run towards him and before he knows it, I have jumped into his arms; a most unbecoming display of emotion from a Darling, but I've missed him so. He's finally home, which means that I won't be dining on Christmas turkey with the Cuties this year.

"Why, what is _this_?" he says playfully. "Looks like I got my present early."

Ohh, he's so incredibly hot; still in his woolen coat with his wild, blue locks in messy waves around his face. We share a kiss as the maids carry in Ludwig's plentiful luggage. Without taking his outdoor clothes off he immediately takes me up in his arms and carries me off to his bedroom. I giggle.

"I hope you slip."

Ludwig smiles, and it warms my precious little Darling-heart. "Why not? I'll be taking you with me."

He tosses me into his bed and tears off his coat. My mouth waters at the sight of him. While he has lost some weight while he was gone – isn't the food in Sweden any good? – He's even more delicious now than when he left. He starts kissing me, oh-so passionately; just the way I like it.

"Wait," I say as he throws caution and his pants to the wind, "How about a drink first? The Cuties have invented this kick-ass candy cane martini."

"Tease me later," Ludwig growls, "I have to have you."

The love we share is the best I've had in a very long time, and an exquisite end to a five-week dry spell. Although, as you may know already, mine wasn't quite as dry as Ludwig's. He's obviously starved. If I had to pick one thing I love the most about our sex life, it's how it has made me feel, oh, I don't know, more present in myself. Which is, of course, Darling-speak for "happy".

Ludwig holds me close as I always shiver after happy time together. "You're really cold, huh?" he asks as he wraps the blankets around me like has always done it; made a soft cocoon around me to shield me from the closet plumbers, I mean monsters. Ludwig makes the fireplace a toasty place, while I ring on Primel for some awesome cocktails.

Ludwig sighs contentedly after his second candy cane martini Cutie style. "The sweet mint really gives the vermouth an extra bite."

Enjoying the warmth from the fireplace and the crushed candy cane rim, I sink back into his arms as if I no longer had a spine for some reason. Maybe it went to our little place in Aspen for Christmas. We usually only spend Easter there, since it's my favorite holiday.

"I've of course kept an eye on you while you were gone," Ludwig says as I pour him a third drink. "I can't believe you got an "A" in philosophy and literature."

I blush. "Oh, it was just an A average." It was, and I try not to take it personally.

"I serious," he says. The smile on his face says that he's enjoying a perfect buzz. "If you graduate with the same grades next spring you're eligible for a Frankenstein scholarship."

That makes me feel happier than a twelve year old girl at her favorite bubblegum pop concert. "Really?!" Oof. I'm not being a dignified Darling today, am I?

"Yes. The Tooth and Nail Society have already put your name on their shortlist. They're very pleased with that they're seeing so far."

I squee. "Oh, I declare!"

Ludwig puts his glass down and basks in my gratitude before he decides he has to have me again. A little separation has only brought us closer together. You have no idea what it's like to be connected to someone who understands everything you feel and say, do you? Well, then, l can tell you that it makes everything better. Not just things in your heart that hurts, it also melts away your hindrances and insecurities. It also does this for Ludwig, quite obviously. His hair is drenched in sweat from my intense "inside massage". I know how much he really loves these by the way he's admiring the streaks of his love fluid that's running down my stomach. Look; Admins have complicated lives and a lot of responsibilities, even more so than us Darlings, so it's forgivable that they need to be on the receiving end every now and then, right?

"I'm in the mood for some entertainment." Ludwig kisses my cheek. "How about you, little punch cake?"

"Hmm…" I ponder, tip of my finger on my lips. "Professor von Prellung says TV rots your brain."

Ludwig laughs. "Does that go for must-see TV as well?"

"Yes. I think he's a victim of the Satanic Panic."

I watch a lot of TV. But Ludwig is the one who eats all the little pink punch cakes around here.

"Really? Well, the good professor probably would approve of us spending time together, wouldn't he?" Ludwig taps on the tablet which functions as the bedroom's control panel. I have the same one in my habitat, only mine is sleek and white. Ludwig's humongous home entertainment screen, which when not in use works as a cybernetic window, flicks on. I'm impressed – its menu now has ten more apps on it since the last time we watched it together.

Since we've been apart for so long Ludwig orders our dinner to be sent up to his room; chop suey beef for him and vegan pad thai for me. He has red wine; I have a glass of dry Chardonnay. We eat in bed while watching the episodes of _Dark Land Horror Story_ that Ludwig missed while he was gone. I'm not all that into the scary shows. But I've grown quite fond of the tall doctor Koopa with the swirly specs and crazy, blue hair. The love of his life betrayed him and poisoned their little son by using him as a guinea pig. How sad.

"Delicious," Ludwig says and places both our empty dishes in the dumbwaiter. "The Cuties deserve a raise."

"Don't," I say. "It'll only confuse them."

For dessert, Ludwig has me for the third time, and it's even more incredible than the first two of this evening. My little indiscretion aside, I'm just as starved as he is, and I eagerly accept what he gives me so generously.

"Make it last, Iggy," he grumbles, as if I'm some kind of rookie. "Make it last."

After rebelling against my Admin by creaming on his pillow, I fall, exhausted, into a happy time - coma. For a while all I do, curled up in a fetal position, is to stare into the fireplace and think about Christmas food. My nutritionist may be right; my diet is probably lacking in protein since I'm now focusing my energy in more constructive ways than giggling like a maniac, jumping in decent people's furniture and running about. Aren't you glad the old Iggy is dead? Ludwig is the big spoon, probably thinking about the same thing. Delicious food, Miss Kittenberg with the dip-dyed locks fending off that horny bastard Frankie and sooner or later having to address the issue. And sprinkling salt on his competitors to watch them shrivel up, of course.

"Luddi?" I ask. He pauses his playing with my sweaty hair. "Yes, darling?"

"How was life with Herr zu Wittgenstein-Rottdinger? You never really talk about it."

Ludwig resumes petting my green locks. "It was… fascinating, actually. And challenging in a refreshing way. I used to be an outcast everywhere I went. I always had to explain myself to every little cretin I met…"

Is it just me, or is he taking his bottled up rage out on the sheet with his fist?

"…But not with Herr Putricius." Ludwig rests his arm over hip in a manner uncharacteristically possessive.

_Herr_ Putricius? I've never heard a Darling refer to their Admin by anything but their first name. After all, we are equals with different functions. "Of course, that introduced me to an entirely new world which, as you may imagine, required some getting used to." He pauses. "I was accepted in a way most people, even brilliant ones, like me and you, may only dream of, or fail to fathom altogether."

Neither these wonderful words nor the scrumptious meal can keep my mind from wandering. Both my Godfathers and Headmin have been tirelessly teaching me how to articulate my thoughts and emotions in order to sort them and make sense of them. A lot of things that didn't, and that I didn't care about either, become clearer to me by the day.

"Do you feel that I… accept you in the same way as he did?"

Ludwig's face is sad and contrite, but I can't see it. Not now. One day I will, when I fully understand these things. "Of course I do, Ignatius. You're not only my Darling, you're my best friend. Whenever I'm with you I feel what anyone who loves someone should; that nothing bad can ever happen."

I sigh in contentment and then some as Ludwig reveals his intentions, which are to make me his for the fourth time tonight. No, I can't get enough either. I only have one final question for my Admin as we conclude this session.

"Ludwig, do you really think I'd fare well in the Tooth and Nail Society?" I ask.

"Of course you will, Iggy." I can tell that the next part is hard for him admit: "You're actually doing better than I did in many studies already."

"It's not that. I haven't been in a regular school setting for almost two years now. What if… they don't like me?"

My Admin kisses me, like only he in the whole galaxy knows how. "Oh, Iggy, honey. Do you really think you'd be the only one of them to have been privately educated? Most of them have. Their hard work is the only thing that keeps them from becoming sheltered little brats."

"Really?" I'm relieved.

"Really. You'll have lots of fun, I promise." He smiles cryptically. "This little home video will show you just how much."

For a home video, it sure is professional-looking. It's Ludwig, about five years younger, sitting on a round mattress clad in the most costly silk with fancy cushions all around him, enjoying a red heart lollipop. He's a novice Darling and resident pretty-boy; that I can tell from his shiny claws and feathered fluffy hair. Ludwig's fondness for exotic footwear has not escaped the Society's eye. He's wearing a pair of high, shiny black pointy boots with silver buckles across the foot that reminds one of those favored by either mad scientists or German World War I generals; equally mad, of course; because madness and Germany make everything cooler. The camera is firmly fixed on his face as he's licking the hard candy treat. He's so beautiful; eyes big, dark and sparkly, and possibly discreetly painted.

"You want some of this?" he asks the viewer in a seductive voice. The next frame shows him surrounded by three other Darlings, who have already earned their Tooth &amp; Nail tattoos. They sit down around him, smiling like hungry sharks.

"Hello," Ludwig chirps. His unawareness of his roommates' appetites appears to be genuine.

"What's this, then?" The blonde one has a thick British accent; Cockney, I think. He's dressed in Regency-style dandy attire, complete with what must be unbearably tight breeches in creamy cotton, a navy blue waist coat and a large, foppish cravat. I'm guessing he's wearing a rather snug corset underneath.

"Gentlemen, this is Ludwig," the Darling with the lamp black hair with mint green streaks and delightful olive scales declares. The name tag on his overly feminine book bag reads Pallas. I'm guessing he's from Greece or at least some Mediterranean region. He also wears skin-tight knee breeches and a puffy shirt under his long jacket. "He's the newest addition to our chapter."

"Ah, but he looks like a friend too," the one in the horror movie - style lab coat that has the French flag in the shape of a heart sewn into the sleeve. He wears a chunky pair of safety glasses on his wild, tri-color haired head. His ID card reads Roux. He occasionally sends the English Darling; who, I learn, is called Queen Albert, some pretty nasty glances, which are diligently returned. Perhaps they need my Barbarian brother to work out some kind of treaty.

"Ludwig, you are German, right?" Pallas asks, writing on a clipboard.

"Austrian," Ludwig corrects with a sweet smile. "But _Ich haben_ lived in the Mushroom Kingdom most of my life."

Roux looks a little more pleased. "_Oui_. An international one." He has a sultry voice that his accent makes jump from time to time. Speaking English forces a lot of Europeans, other than the British, of course, to lower their voices by an octave or two; this can be a strain on any throat.

"And he's not alone," Pallas declares. "Ludwig, we have a new brother to welcome into our association."

"Awesome!" Ludwig chirrups like a happy parakeet.

Pallas introduces the other new addition. "Ludwig, honey, this is Lemmykov," he says. "You have no idea just how anxious he's been to meet you."

Lemmykov is tall – taller than most Darlings, and his muscles are a tad more defined than the others, who tend towards the sinewy rather than burly side. Holy shit, he's gorgeous. I thought I knew gorgeous until I see now just how shockingly handsome Lemmykov is. He is more Admin than Darling – like, but let's not allow appearances to deceive us, now. He's flanked by a Mod, as in "Moderator". These only occur in the Russian chapter of the Society. Yes, The Gilded Cage Society has a branch in Russia, all friendly-like and stuff. We all have a responsibility to get along. In the Russian chapter Darlings have much more power and occasionally dominate even their Admins. As such they need to delegate their tasks. Mods also replace Cuties in regard to housekeeping, company and cooking as the Cutie society has been on sort of chilly terms with the Russians since 1918. Until today I've never even seen a Mod. His name is Shiro and he's from Japan. He looks exactly like one of those adorable characters in those hentai flicks my brother Roy loves so much, who always get dominated by some guy in a fancy suit. Why do all Darlings have fluffy hairstyles, I wonder. His shell is awesome – white with red circles around the spikes. Lemmykov gallantly kisses Ludwig's hand. "Good afternoon, my brother," he says in Russian. Language is one of the few areas that aren't Ludwig's strong suits. So he just says the German equivalent of "How's tricks?"

"Aw, this will never do," Queen Albert corrects Ludwig. "Luddi, the lot of us thought that you could help Master Lemmykov here improve on his English, which I daresay is lacking."

Roux leans in from the other side, claiming all of my Admin's attention for himself. "And you speak the _best_ _Anglaise_, _chérie_," he says, earning him yet another vicious side glance from Albert. "Spend some time with him. Study together, take walks, take his arm at our gatherings."

"What do you say, Ludwig?" Pallas asks the blushing beauty. He nods his pretty little head. "Of course I will."

Lemmykov appears to understand, so he presents Ludwig with a deep red rose; a very forthright gesture. Russian Darlings must not like beating around the bush much or waste their time on subtleties. Ludwig accepts the rose and appears to understand his new friend's intentions. The others are just as pleased as Lemmykov, and all gather around even closer.

"What's that you are enjoying so much, _chérie_?" Roux asks and nods toward the heart-shaped lollipop, which Ludwig has returned to snacking on.

"A piece of candy," he replies, stretching out his exquisite, slender leg for everyone to see. His lips are resting on the lollipop, mirroring its shape.

"What flavor is it?" Pallas is inspecting either the candy or Ludwig's hungry little mouth.

Ohh, Ludwig's eyes are big, sparkly, cute and deceitful. How adorable! "Cherry-Strawberry."

The others murmur softly in approval; "Cherry-Strawberry," they repeat.

"Give us a taste, then," Queen Albert says and gently takes Ludwig's hand in his, sucking on the lollipop for a few moments. Ludwig pouts; he never did like to share his candy.

"What do you think?" Pallas looks as if he'd like a taste, too. They all take turns enjoying Ludwig's lollipop while it's still in his hand. He sets up a genuinely violated face.

"Stop it!" he says theatrically and pouts impudently. "Stop it, or I'm _telling_!"

The others laugh viciously while Ludwig pouts some more. Lemmykov opts for tasting the candy off of Ludwig's mouth. "Sweet," he says in Russian.

"It's sweet… but not sophisticated enough for one of _us_," Roux asserts. "_I think Monsieur Lude-vik_ should be treated to something much more refined."

"Well, naturally," Queen Albert replies. He's even snootier than his French rival, which, from what I can tell from fifteen minutes of footage, is quite the accomplishment.

I've heard of this; where the Frankenstein Darlings slowly undress each other in a long foreplay ritual that would be torture for any normal red-blooded Koopa. Not for Darlings, though – we're being unforgivingly schooled by our Admins in the noble art of climax control. The Darlings all pair up; Albert with Shiro; they appear to be old friends. Roux and Pallas opt for the pillow pile in the corner.

Ludwig is left to the mercy of Lemmykov, who sits down next to him. My future Admin is enjoying the scent of the sinfully red rose, all the while guarding the other one with his eyes.

"You have that kind of casual elegance that's hardly ever seen nowadays," Lemmykov says in Russian. "It's the kind of grace that brings peace of mind to anyone who looks at you."

Ludwig clearly doesn't understand, but must appreciate his tone, as he's smiling sweetly, placing his delicate fingers on the back of his friend's hand. It's a side of Ludwig I doubt anyone has ever seen before.

For being very direct, Lemmykov is very patient with Ludwig's need for an extended foreplay. He's obviously not the most experienced kisser, requiring his bed friend to teach him some basics. Ludwig, being such an industrious little mastermind and all, learns quickly, both to like it and to take every little nerve ending of the sensitive lips into account. Because only the tone matters, Ludwig divulges in a flirty voice: "I had a tangy salad for lunch" before allowing Lemmykov to kiss his neck.

"Back home such dirty talk buys even a little pet like you a licking," Lemmykov informs. He then strokes Ludwig's luscious fluffy hair over his shoulder to reveal the secret behind the latter's absent kissing prowess – a temporary tattoo of a little peach on his nape, placed there by the president of the Tooth and Nail chapter. Ludwig is in fact a virgin here. Lemmykov, being a gentlekoopa and all, doesn't make a big deal out of it. The others, however, are fascinated.

"My word," Queen Albert says.

"_Non, non_," Roux exclaims in utter disbelief. Even Pallas and Shiro join in on inspecting the tattoo's legitimacy, as the peach hue used was developed in the Frankenstein University's Weird Science lab and its patent remains solely with the Tooth and Nail Society. They all confirm its authenticity and wish to touch it, but Lemmykov clears his throat reproachfully. He doesn't like having others treating his bed friend like a piece of meat.

Ludwig positions himself over a bolster, with his irresistible little butt pointed upward, a gesture almost as direct as the Black Magic rose. He's tired of being fawned over by the others and resumes snacking on his heart lollipop. Lemmykov has different plans for Ludwig's afternoon, though, and signals to Shiro that it's time.

"So… virgin, huh?" the white-shelled one asks.

"Yeah," Ludwig replies with a laconic shrug. "I was, um, saving myself."

"Quite right," Queen Albert says sarcastically. Roux bonks him on the head with a chocolate croissant. I'm actually hoping these two will be getting it on; sooner rather than later. They have a very interesting chemistry. Remember, not all chemistries in the Society are of a romantic or pretty-pretty variety.

The chapters that employ Moderators delegate to them the task of lubing up and "preparing" their employer's bed friend. Said preparation consists of a kind of spelunking that's all kinds of fun. For his first time, Ludwig looks pretty calm and laidback. I can't even begin to describe just how erotic the sight of Ludwig eating a lollipop while being penetrated for the very first time by this gorgeous living bishie. Of course, since Shiro is just a Mod, his time with Ludwig and amount of touching allowed is limited.

"Ohh, he's perfect," Shiro says blissfully, then sighs; "This one is just packed with surprises."

Lemmykov looks pleased. The camera closes up on Ludwig licking the lollipop, pupils dilated with lust, then his love cave, also dilated and glossy with organic lubricant.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Lemmykov says to Shiro in a perfect, but still somewhat formal Japanese, so he must also be gifted with languages. "Stop by later tonight and I'm sure we can make out an appropriate compensation."

Ludwig does lose his cool when Lemmykov takes him, though – I suspect he's quite a bit bigger in the knee breeches than Shiro. The sweat drops on his forehead grows with each of Lemmykov's long, powerful thrusts. The latter has his hands holding, not Ludwig's hips, but his thighs, allowing himself to pull further out before entering him again. I've never had this before, since it's not on the list I made over acceptable activities. Later I want to ask Ludwig if he would like me to give him that kind of inside massage. Usually he's on top of me, which is good too, but I love trying new things.

Whoever filmed this sure is good. The viewer is treated to a shot of Ludwig and Lemmykov making love from underneath. The latter's considerable testes swing back and forth, almost hitting Ludwig's but not quite, as he's too big to fit entirely. He takes breaks every now and then to daub pre-cum around Ludwig's hungry hole.

"Uhhnnhh!" the blue-haired beauty groans pitifully. "Ohhh! Ple-e-e-e-a-se…!"

Lemmykov responds with a slightly desperate growling. "You're mine now, my pretty!"

Ludwig keeps whimpering in crazed pleasure; he loves this, but at the same time it must be a new and confusing experience. "I want it!" he exclaims like a spoiled rotten brat. "Your man sauce! Inside my tight little ass!"

It seems that Lemmykov understands enough English to make sense of what Ludwig is requesting of him. He speeds up as he starts evacuating his essence. His drawn-out moans are wordless, apart from some Russian profanity that I won't translate for you, but they say "Oh, that's the _shit_!" Lemmykov breaks the connection, and Ludwig, presumably full of his seminal fluid, turns around sitting on his knees. He's genuinely oblivious to what's going to happen next. He does get it, though, through subtle gestures made by the enigmatic but gentle Lemmykov. He rests his lips on the head of his bed friend's mountainous man flesh, trying to make up his mind about it.

Roux is more than willing to give him a few pointers. "_Oui_, take it in your _jolie_ little hand, now," he says, voice guttural, and if those knee breeches were tight earlier, they've got to be like a frickin' sausage casing now, even with their busk undone. "Don't be afraid you will hurt it, or that it will hurt you. In his natural state he is your benefactor of _amour_ and _plaisir_ only and deserves your respect."

Ludwig is encouraged by this and as he wraps his mouth around it, he moves his hand upwards, making the skin rub over those nerve endings that fell behind. Lemmykov gasps and his abs shudder, and then he places his fingers on strategic places on Ludwig's face, as to avoid a spurt of love milk hitting him in the eye.

"Ahh…!" he moans under his breath. "Mmmnnhhh….!"

"He's only a few moments away now, I reckon," Queen Albert mumbles to Ludwig, who is still astonished by the sight and sensation of Lemmykov releasing a creamy deposit. Ludwig is even more beautiful than ever; on his knees with a stream-lined splatter of semen in his hair.

"Don't be afraid to taste it," the others reassure him. "You'll love it. And everybody else is doing it."

The remainder of Lemmykov's contents are released in a slow pulse, allowing Ludwig to first put his tongue on it, then taking it into his mouth, and then dine on it. The others, some with their breeches almost undone, look at it as if they've never seen anything so adorable. Queen Albert is the first to break the meditative sounds of Ludwig's soft moans. He turns to Roux.

"We have our differences, that I know well, my old friend, but you wouldn't be at all averse to a good shagging?"

"_Bien_," the tricolor haired Koopa Darling says with a little smile. Attention to detail being a hallmark of the French, he puts the finishing touches on helping Queen Albert opening his breeches. The English Darling sits up on his elbows. Wow, it's huge. Roux begins to orally pleasure his frenemy. He's been at this for a long time, that's for sure. On the other side of the large pillow nest Pallas and Shiro have also managed to open their breeches. They sit across each other on their knees, kissing, and allowing their tall ones to touch. It's really charming. Ludwig lies down on his side and lifts up his leg, so excited by Lemmykov following suit and aiming his hammer at his sweet little Barbarian's hungry hole he's actually giggling.

"_Baise-moi_," Roux mutters as he sits across Queen Albert's lap. He rests a finger on his British bed friend's man flesh as it's slowly inserted with only a minimum of lube, probably to feel how deep he can go. Is he still skeptical to his English brethren? He's such a stereotype! He rolls his hips slowly, and Queen Albert follows up with only arbitrary thrusts at first, then harder ones less spaced out (_"Baise-moi!"_) and then at a more normal pace, but I have the feeling that the best is yet to, heh; _come_.

Pallas and Shiro must not be that into penetrative lovemaking, as they are still just kissing, but now also giving each other hand jobs at the same time. They lay down next to each other, continuing their tender kissing and pork pulling. Two of Shiro's fingers find their way inside Pallas' love hole and give him an inside massage.

"Mmm…" Pallas is purring like a vicious, white cat. "It's… ohh… good…"

Surprisingly, Shiro is the first one to come, and the rush of pleasure makes him vigorously rub his friend's prostate, and very soon after Pallas comes as well. They kiss yet again, with each other's cum around their fun zones. Shiro curls up with the Greek Darling's arm to watch the others. Lemmykov, supported by many pillows, has Ludwig sitting across him with his shell turned, leaning against him, and he is French kissing Ludwig while almost balls-deep in his incredibly tight little tush. Occasionally Ludwig just has to touch the place where his body is connected to Lemmykov's, and even studies it with a hand mirror. Aww… Ludwig is so thin I can see his ribcage expanding as he breathes. Any thinner and I'd probably see his lungs as well; despite his stature being on the short side he's below the minimum required weight for a Darling his height. Because of the legal and ethical implications there has to be a minimum weight set for Darlings who wish for physical intimacy with their Admins. And no, there is no maximum limit. Our svelte bodies are a side effect of the healthy food and exercise regime we abide by which is more meant to help us work better than make us rail thin. I find myself being concerned for the Ludwig on the screen as I know he himself would never allow me to waste away like that.

Queen Albert has Roux in the piledriver position, tried and true. The latter smiles blissfully, looks up at him and says: "_Je veux votre lait_", which is more than sufficient to help Queen Albert come, with a vengeance, too.

"Ahh! Ahhrrrhhh…!" He tries his best to aim it at Roux' mouth, which is open with a diligent tongue reaching out to catch his Darling-drops, even smacking his lips once or twice.

Lemmykov's latest deposit won't fit inside Ludwig's ass and the thrusts help expel the excess fluids. Ludwig licks it off his fingers. Apparently it helps calm his nerves.

"You like?" Lemmykov asks in broken English.

"It's good," Ludwig says sweetly, yet remains on guard.

"I fuck you more," his Russian bed friend says with a wicked smile, loving how his crude English appears to intimidate Ludwig. "_So_ soon."

The blue haired newbie pouts. "Why haven't I made any fancy white fountains yet?"

Instead of scoffing at their newest brother's ignorance they kindly explain to him what that "fancy fountain" really is and why he hasn't had one yet.

"We will of course help you make a love volcano that's gonna be just as fancy as ours, if not more so," Shiro says, which makes Ludwig lighten up. "Really?"

"Of course, honey," Queen Albert nods.

They all need a break first, though; so does everyone else in the very luxurious Frankenstein Darling lounge. Pallas and Shiro lay naked by the fireplace and go over their notes from Professor zu Wittgenstein-Rottdinger's seminar on genetic betterthanyouness. Roux, now bed headed, has a cigarette and glass of wine while reading pompous poetry. Queen Albert enjoys a spot of tea, of course, with Devonshire cream on a piece of shortbread. Lemmykov has some tea, too. I happen to know that the Russians have their own tea culture, and drink even more tea than the English; only they make theirs from some kind of concentrate.

"Good, yes?" Lemmykov catches Ludwig drinking from his cup like a sneaky little cat.

"It's perfect," Ludwig replies.

Queen Albert presents him with some shortbread. "You need to gather your strength, lovely, lovely Ludwig von," he says, voice dangerously soft. Lovely, lovely Ludwig von eats right out of his hand and returns the kind gesture with a smile that's rather lewd, and sits back down in Lemmykov's lap, where he is given more tea, but interestingly, not allowed to hold the cup himself.

"You're all the sugar I'll ever need, sweetie," Lemmykov says in Russian. Ludwig just gazes adoringly back, allowing himself to indulge in blissful ignorance for a moment or two.

After a short fade out, the picture is back, focusing, where else, on Ludwig's lubed up ass. What's different; very different, this time is that all the Darlings are joining forces in suspending him above Lemmykov. I know what this is. It's called a "slow ride", but it's a rather intense school of climax control reserved for Darlings who have problems achieving the peak of pleasure and only ever performed by their Admin. I feel like I should say something; defend the Ludwig on the screen who obviously doesn't know this. The ritual is sort of a reverse psychology on the receiver's body and mind; "You can't come? See if I care." It does work, but like I said, it's absolutely best if performed by someone very experienced and with much care. The sensory deprivation of being suspended heightens the erotic sensations. It appears to be doing this on Ludwig.

Ludwig moans in pleasure and pain as Roux helps inserting his bed friend's man flesh. The French must be stingy with the lube, as it's only applied around Ludwig's love hole and not anywhere on Lemmykov. My worries, while justified, seem unfounded as Lemmykov is quite proficient at this. Ludwig is held in place as he is treated to an unpredictable set of deep thrusts one at a time. It's understandably puzzling that someone so tight can allow for this.

"Ahh! My sweet ass is _really_ getting _fucked_ now!" Ludwig says with a sheepish smile on his face. The deep, hard thrusts make the true blue Darling's moans and breath shake. The others find this amusing.

"Listen to _that_ language," Roux says. "Who'd guess from such a _petite chérie_?"

"His beauty is our beauty now," Pallas declares in a low voice, before helping Shiro restraining Ludwig from pleasuring himself after seeing pre-cum leaking from the tip of his love volcano. The first one has to be sparked by stimulating the prostate only. It's the cue for the others to allow him into Lemmykov's arms and finish their session all by himself. I understand now why Ludwig enjoys inside massages so much… His face twitches, and he's looking up at his lover, and it's as if he's finally realizing just how beautiful said lover is. He doesn't even want to close his eyes as his very first climax is coursing through his body, and out, all over Lemmykov's stomach and thighs. A person's first orgasm is usually accomplished by their own hand. Having it set off by another must be a frightening experience. So after cleaning him up, rather tenderly I might add, Lemmykov takes a sweaty and exhausted Ludwig into his arms, and calls him "little beauty" in Russian. Ludwig looks pride

"Welcome to our chapter, sweetheart," the others say, and then the video ends.

I turn to the latter-day Ludwig, relieved to see that he's still trim but well-nourished. "So… Did the Cuties keep that day room so clean, or..?"

My Admin thinks back. "Hmm… Yeah, the Cuties did tidy up our papers, schoolbooks and candy wrappers and such at the end of the weekdays, but on Saturday afternoons we all pitched in and washed it and our rooms from floor to ceiling. Lemmykov provided the flowers." Ludwig sighs contentedly. "He just _loved_ picking flowers."

I believe him.

Before I retire to my apartment Ludwig shows me some pamphlets on life at Frankenstein University and types, yes, types a letter to my Godfathers, inviting them to give me advice on what courses to sign up for and meeting one of the other Frankenstein Darlings who will give me the grand tour of campus in spring. I'm not afraid of being separated from Ludwig anymore… I'm at this point where I feel close to him no matter where he is, or I am. Maybe it's love.

* * *

**NEXT: Iggy… does stuff!**


	12. Darling Syrup Part 1

**Lots of surprises in this one! You're gonna love it as much as you're gonna hate it!**

* * *

The two gentlekoopas strolled leisurely down the sunny marina. Dressed in their finery and with discreetly powdered wigs and faces, their ageless beauty and gliding, carefree gait earned them many admiring looks from passersby.

"Ah, _Herr_ zu Schimmel-Spitze," the dandy in the lavender brocade coat said to his equally dandy friend in the royal red and gold silk and velvet ensemble and black wig.

"Yes, _Herr_ von Übelkeit-Kotze?"

"Habst Sie ever zeen such a gorgeous _Morgen_?"

It was indeed a beautiful December morning in St. Bart's; southern France for those of you who aren't geography experts. The air was like a veil of freshness cascading from the sky, the sun like a shimmering silver disk and the ocean glittered… Like glitter.

"Only in our beloved _Österreich_, _Mein Freund,"_ _Herr_ zu Schimmel-Spitze replied with a dramatic nod.

"Ah, yes… _Österreich_."

The pair returned to their luxurious winter home just in time for coffee and fresh croissants. The house Cuties had put out the best patio cushions for their masters and set the table with the finest china – Cuties take Sundays very seriously.

The dandies' names were Friedrich and Heinrich respectively. They had been together their entire life. Their very special friendship had survived everything; war, bankruptcy, disease and drama. One day they had decided that they should share their secret with others in similar… friendships, so when they received their invitation from The Gilded Cage Society, you can imagine how happy they were. As they were already in a committed "friendship", they decided to function in the Society as Godfathers; private educators, guardians and benefactors of novice Darlings.

"I don't believe I have ever enjoyed a fluffier or crispier croissant in my life," Heinrich zu Schimmel-Spitze said. "And this _Kaffee_; strong and true."

Friedrich von Übelkeit-Kotze sighed contentedly. "We show gratitude to our _Schönlinge_, and we get this _wunderbar_ _Kaffee_. He put his cup down on his saucer and placed it on the table. "Mein _Freund_, I _verstanden_ that it is _Sonntag_."

Heinrich tilted his beautiful head and a smile as bright as the sun itself illuminated his face. "_Ja_, yes, it is indeed _Sonntag_, Friedrich, yes!"

"'The one day when we don't do eine lick of _Arbeit'_," Friedrich recited with his slender finger as a conductor's wand.

"Very true. We work ever so hard the other six days of the week; each more _wunderschön_ than the last Ich might _adderen_, so _Sonntag_ is ever so necessary for us to regain our strength for the week thereafter, especially in these turbulent times. Still I feel, by the minute, the thought of Sie, Friedrich, and _mein_self; that's Heinrich, retreating to our bed chamber to make love for an hour or so, rather appealing."

Friedrich raised an immaculately plucked and brushed eyebrow. "_Appealing_, you say? '_Appealing'_ as in "tempting", "alluring"; "mouthwatering"?

Heinrich couldn't help but to laugh. "Why, all of the above, _natürlich_! The reason, _Mein Freund_, there are so many gorgeous synonyms for every _Adjektiv_, is so that everyone can find one that suits their own taste the very best."

Friedrich could not have agreed more.

"Who would have guessed that Ich would find such _eine_ prospect just as tempting, alluring and mouthwatering, then?"

Heinrich smiled at his friend's kind and instructive words. "_Then_ let's leave a thank you card for our faithful _Schönlinge_ and _then_ retire."

Their bedchamber was just as inviting and comforting as it had always been; a place of both torrid romance and tender rest. There is always a lot of passion created in places of such contrasts. And just because the two friends were so used to each other's bodies they might as well be extensions of their own didn't mean two or more surprises were not to be experienced when they made love, which they did every day, normally except for Sunday.

"Not too heavy-handed on the _öl_ now, _Liebster_," Heinrich growled under his heavy breath. "I _vould_ like to feel you…"

They had been rather young the first time they allowed their mortal coils to fuse together in the clutch of carnal pleasure, and in a decidedly more rustic environment; the hayloft of Friedrich's Groβvater. After doing their chores they had retreated to the hayloft in question, like they did on those warm summer afternoons. For years it had only been kissing and hand-holding. But one day they both found that because they were now a little older, and they loved each other very much, it was OK to take things a step further. Oh, how nervous they had been while removing each other's clothes! What if I'm not beautiful enough? What if I removed one pubic hair too many? As you may imagine, they weren't the teensiest bit worried about getting caught… While not yet bed gymnasts, it had felt so good. None of them had ever experienced a climax until that wonderful day, making the love magic between them incredibly potent, keeping them both healthy and happy.

"_Vat_ do you say; we visit Paris this weekend? Buy a few more _Weihnachten_ presents for our Darlings. Maybe get ourselves a facial at that spa we both find agreeable, both in price, surroundings and service." Friedrich was still breathing heavily.

"That would be lovely, indeed, Mein dearest Friedrich," Heinrich said as he opened the mail a Cutie had born in earlier on a silver platter. "But we _vill habst_ to, as the Americans say, take _eine_ raincheck, _ja_."

He sat back down on the bed with the letter. "_Nein_, your _Augen_ is not deceiving you, _Mein_ ageless friend. Herr Ignatius has been accepted into Frankenstein University."

Friedrich sat right up and reached for his bejeweled gold lorgnette. "_**Vat**_?! You mean, our beloved little Ignatius?" he skimmed through the letter. "_Ze_ one we taught how to cure cancer and eat with chopsticks?"

"The very same, _Mein_ never-tarnished love," Heinrich replied. On the shelf over the bedroom's mantel there was a vast collection of photographs, each one framed in different shades of gold. They depicted every Darling novice they had ever taken under their wing. Heinrich picked down Iggy's. Iggy was sitting reverently at his Godfathers' Tudor desk, studying. While loving the photograph very much, both Godfathers found themselves clicking their tongues at the sadness in the subject's eyes. Iggy had been a particularly challenging novice, but not by any means the most difficult. He had initially been plagued by melancholy and bouts of crying from homesickness. Both behaviors are common in new Darlings and a response to their new environment and situation. Most Darlings come from troubled backgrounds, as you know. Changing their view of the world is not done overnight. It's an arduous and often painful journey. In the beginning, Iggy had spent most of his time crying inconsolably and wanting to go home to his castle in the underground. He claimed to be the heir to a jungle kingdom and that he had been stolen from his father the king.

These days the Godfathers were saddled with another issue of much more considerable importance. Well; two; one concerning the future of not only the Society, but the entire Real World, and Ludwig, Iggy's Admin, currently being confined at the Society's headquarters with a bad case of the Ignatius/Iggy-complex. A nefarious condition most mad scientists agree are best explained in flashback form.

* * *

And here it is. Ignatius was sitting at the Schätzchen Manor dining room table, posture impeccable, elbows off the table, neatly eating his tomato salad. His napkin was placed in his lap as to not stain his ironed-to-perfection pressed uniform slacks.

"Herr Ludwig, will you please pass the salt?" he asked in his meek voice.

"_Herr Ludwig, will you please pass the salt?"_ the third diner at the table parroted back in a vicious baby voice. "Why don't you stretch that way too clean little hand of yours out and grab it yourself?"

Iggy, everybody's favorite free bird, had one foot on his chair which he leaned his elbow on, and his left index finger flirtatiously nursing the whipped cream topping of his cherry strawberry tartlet. He only wore a very sheer robe in red silk.

"You can't reach for things at the table. That's rude, and you know it," Ignatius said. Ludwig pushed the crystal salt shaker across the table.

"That's right, Ignatius. Well done," Ludwig said with his voice trembling a little in the presence of these two powerful figures.

Iggy laughed scornfully. "Since when did you object to me reaching for things, Luddi?"

Ignatius threw his napkin onto the table and glanced at the corrupted one. "Are you going to do this double entendre thing all night? Because it was old ten years ago and I'm really sick and tired of it."

Iggy picked up a stray pea from Ludwig's king size Hungry Man chicken dinner and flicked it at his chaste counterpart, bull's eye, tilting his head with a smile that said "_deal with it_". Ignatius was not above becoming angry – and squeaky – when Iggy pestered him. Ludwig wanted to avoid this situation as it only snowballed from there.

"I'm not taking any doo-doo from someone who makes it burn when you pee!"

Too late.

Everyone in Ludwig's Weird Science class would have had a hard time keeping their hands where you could see them if they had been in the dining room to witness the ensuing cat fight. So you can imagine how Ludwig felt.

"Please!" he insisted. "Please, the both of you! Your wiles are corrupting my supreme genius! Calm down!" he realized that he had no other choice than to put himself between them, and actually turn his back on one of them, at least for the night. Well… He could only take one of them to bed at night anyway. Tonight that was Ignatius' turn. Ludwig enjoyed his company just as much as he did Iggy's, only for very different reasons. While certainly nothing more but a debased man-whore, Ludwig still felt he had to apologize to him.

"Hey; no worries," Iggy said, sitting at the edge of the table. "The other Darlings of your little chemistry group are coming…" he picked up the cherry from the top of the tart, "to pick me up later. They asked me to host one of their _fun_ Suckerware parties, so… I can only guess they've smartened up to their desperate need to learn how to keep their eyes _off_ the prize."

As you might have guessed, the home parties at the Tooth and Nail house had little if anything to do with kitchenware or purses. The merchandise offered however would be enough to entice even the most demanding customer, and all the guests got free Robby Bubble and hors d'oeuvres.

Iggy placed the pink maraschino cherry between his teeth and chewed it with a very audible _pop! _He then raised a neatly plucked eyebrow at Ludwig. "Your little darling is waiting. Be nice to him…" he moved past him, stroking Ludwig's stomach with his fingertips in the process, "and I might bring you home something sweet."

Enraged, Ludwig grasped Iggy by the wrist, stared him in the eye and growled: "You're nothing but a filthy whore!" He was all but spitting in sanctimonious man-rage. "You destroy everything you touch..."

The filthy whore just laughed spitefully. "How have I destroyed you with my touch, Luddi?" Iggy's gorgeous hand snuck across Ludwig's hips and rested on his back. "You have to understand one thing, cutie. The touch, the desire, the dirty, _dirty_ thoughts…" he kissed him, if only to confirm these bawdy words of wisdom, which Ludwig did for him, "They all come from you. It's all you, Ludwig von Koopa. You can say no, turn me away from your bed, hey; you can kick me out of your house and I'll never bother you again. But you won't. Not because you can't… But because you don't want to."

"That's not true…" Ludwig tried to form a protest, but he didn't, and the slut was right; it wasn't at all because he couldn't.

"Oh, Ludwig…" Iggy's soft mutterings in between skillfully kissing Ludwig's neck, "Show me on the doll where the despicable professor fucked you in the ass."

"Shut up, whore," Ludwig whispered through his shaky breath. Then and there he was helpless.

"Oh, now, now," Iggy tutted. "I don't judg.. I just adore men who are strong enough to own up to their intentions, no matter how filthy they may seem." He sat down on his knees before Ludwig and put his mouth on the front of his master's fancy breeches. "Oh…" Iggy sighed in awe. "Everything about you is indeed _strong_, _Herr_ Koopa!"

One of the most beautiful places a man could be was behind Iggy's loving lips. Ludwig fumbled with his hands behind him to lean against the table, almost pulling off the tablecloth and breaking his Groβmutter's antique crystal vase in the process. Iggy had no inhibitions whatsoever and swallowing Ludwig's significant load was all in a day's work. The latter wanted to roar his satisfaction, but knowing well the inquisitive Ignatius would hear him and become uncomfortable, possibly even consider Ludwig to be a lowly pervert and not worthy of his love, he just made a series of amusingly shuddery breaths. He did look down just in time to see some of his calorific man cream being spilled across the green-haired little serpent's cheek. Iggy still held Ludwig's hammer in one hand using it to rub the good old white stuff into his skin, making small content sighs before rising to his feet.

"Well?" he whispered ominously. Ludwig's breath was still heavy, but his heart, what was left of it, was in the right place.

"You're not worthy of my love, Iggy," he muttered.

Iggy just raised his eyebrow rather elegantly and snapped his fingers for one of the house Cuties to bring him his flamboyant fur-trimmed coat. Irresistibly seductive with the fluffy collar around his face, he turned around to glance at the defeated prodigy.

"You don't know what love is, Ludwig," he said. If you had been there, you would have heard his malicious cackling long after he shut the front door behind him.

* * *

The antique Ford pulled up into the newly shoveled driveway of Ludwig and his Darling's home. While certainly the jewel of their collection, the Godfathers had no interest in keeping the vehicle in some garage gathering dust. They travelled the world with it; the paved world without too many pot holes, at least. Now, before dismissing gentlekoopas Heinrich and Friedrich as two sentimental saps, let me tell you how much every well-bred man should be entitled to his own passion. It's not as if they didn't share their possessions with the world. Every so often they would take their charges on the most wonderful road trips. Imagine yourself shopping in Paris, receiving no less than first class VIP treatment from everyone around you. Or, for that matter, the wildest nature. Once you hike past the foothills of the southeastern Norwegian mountains and leave the tree line behind you, it's like you're in a different world.

"Ah," Friedrich sighed contently as he exited the beautiful car. "Schätzchen Manor in December. It is a sight for sore _Augen_, is it not?"

Most of the Cuties, having done their utmost to prepare the manor for the two distinguished guests, had been given the rest of the day off to play around in the snow. The remaining three had been granted the privilege of welcoming the Godfathers and take them to their guest quarters. Needless to say, they were giddy with anticipation.

"There you go," Mallow chirped, voice like a little wind chime, "our snowman looks _just_ like Herr Ludwig."

"Almost!" Lor took some tangerine segments from his lunch box and placed them on the snow sculpture, supposedly fashioned into looking like Ludwig in his fanciest lab coat. "Now it's like seeing him."

The other Cuties stopped making snow lanterns look at Mallow's sculpture. As on cue, they all fell over laughing. The sound was entrancing, like a regular _Glockenspiel_. Even Mallow, who was usually very touchy about anything that could possibly be interpreted as criticism, joined in. Once the Godfathers approached, however, the Cuties quickly formed a proper line, something Heinrich was sure to acknowledge.

"What an inviting clique," he said approvingly while admiring them. "It certainly is an improvement from our earliest _Besuchen_ to the estate."

"Certainly." Friedrich extended his imposing telescope cane and took Heinrich's arm as they continued their walk towards the entrance. "Herr zu Rottdinger never himself did approve of _Schönlinge_."

Heinrich tutted. "_Nein_. His loss, it was positively." He stopped then, as if arrested by his sudden realization. "Now, _Mein_ _Liebster_," he said with caution in his voice. "You, Friedrich, and I, Heinrich, must take extra care not to say anything that could possibly upset _Herr_ _Lood-fik_." He tilted his head towards his friend. "While no longer living in this realm, the remaining master's love still resides in his heart."

This made a reservoir of melancholy spill out in Friedrich's heart. "What eine fate, _Liebster_."

"Yes… But now that he has requested our help _und_ support, we will be doing our part in easing his burdens, and those of our Darling Ignatius."

"Ignatius…" Cheered up by the mere name, Heinrich decided to continue to the Schätzchen Manor's doors.

Inside they were greeted by the bright, cheery faces of several other Cuties, about to burst from curiosity and admiration. Seeing Godfathers isn't common fare for them, you know. It's the only sight enticing enough to make them commit dereliction of beeswax candle rolling duty and leave the table for a closer look. Resisting the little imps is like trying to resist those chocolates in a candy box with tiny pink roses piped onto them, so Primel and Kristrose took the Admins by the hands and lead them towards the main foyer of the mansion.

You can tell how successful the education provided by Godfathers is by how much their Darlings squee when reunited with their teachers. Iggy, dressed to the nines in a floor-length viridian and silvery grey kimono, jumped right into their arms and buried his face in Friedrich's neck, like a forlorn little Koopa returned to his parents. This display of emotion would have bought him disapproval and perhaps even disciplinary measures from his other teachers, especially as his first term at Frankenstein was just a few weeks away. Heinrich and Friedrich's permissive teaching policies allowed them to disregard this and instead appreciate how outgoing and trusting Iggy had become, as opposed to the troubled little shrinking violet he had been way back when.

"My teachers!" he sighed contently. "Did you come to take me back to St. Bart's?"

The Godfathers chucked; a heartwarming, tender sound. "_Nein_, _Herr_ Ignatius, _Bestimmt Nicht_. We are wondering whether or not we could speak with both you and _Herr_ Ludwig for _eine Sekund_."

Iggy looked pensive for a moment. "My teachers?" he asked, hands crossed and resting on his midriff, as per novice Darling etiquette. "I ask permission to speak off the record."

"Permission granted," Heinrich replied.

"Ludwig has been a little out of sorts lately. I think the prospect of me leaving the castle to pursue an education is frightening to him. And I must admit I understand. I love it here at Schätzchen Manor." He walked over to the window to look over the snow-clad garden; a frozen paradise. "It's my home." His right hand twinged. "Forever. But Ludwig is the one who pushed for my early acceptance. I've outgrown all my home schooling professors. Apart from Herr zu Prellung, of course."

Heinrich nodded, and looked at Friedrich, who had been following Iggy's lessons in etiquette more closely, seeing as he was the one of the Godfathers with a doctorate in Darling protocol. "Professor zu Prellung says that you have been quite unruly in his classes. He has to fill out eine form every time he disciplines you. Too many reports of corporal… correction do not look very good on _eine Herren's_ work record."

"And incidentally," Heinrich added, "Sleeping with one's professor?" he turned to Friedrich. "Did we not instruct Herr Ignatius to be _Be__β__er_ than that?"

"_Ich_ like to _beliebst_ so, _ja_," the dandiest of the pair nodded poignantly.

"Ach, _Ich_ totally do likewise." Heinrich's eyes met Iggy's.

Iggy doubted that Leopold had betrayed their liaison. His Godfathers were not just highly intelligent, but very perceptive. Nothing escaped them. Not an A minus, not the consumption of fancy guest bathroom soaps; nothing. Plus, piecing together the scheming little Iggy and Professor zu Prellung's extensive track record with barely legal bed friends didn't take the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

"I really am trying to do better, my teachers," Iggy said, possibly telling the truth. "Especially now that Ludwig is struggling. I…"

He was interrupted by something small that came from the side, grabbing his robe and pulling on it. It was the tiniest Cutie the Godfathers had ever seen. "Teatime," he insisted, nodding his head. His sea green hair emitted gold sparkles. Iggy picked up the elfin creature. "What are you doing out of bed, huh?" He returned to the conversation. "Gentle teachers, this is Vetiver. The Norwegian Tooth and Nail chapter sent him to me. He's still just a Sweetie."

"A _Sü__β__er_," Friedrich echoed, gently taking Vetiver's hand in his. "A _Schönling_ yet to grow spikes. _Wunderbar_, but oh-so sensitive to _Sonnenlicht_, he should be taken back to his little napping nook."

Iggy decided that for the time being Vetiver couldn't get into more trouble continuing his little rest in his new master's private winter garden.

"So, how are things in your part of the Real World?" Iggy asked as the nosy little Kristrose came with the tea tray. He lowered his voice just to be on the safe side. "Are you making any headway?"

Heinrich helped himself to some almond brittle. "Well, ever since that _Wahnzinniger_ conquered the Tri-State area, our main focus has been organizing our double agents on der inside. Once we have liberated our friends the overthrowing will commence."

"The bastard finally pulled it off, huh?" Iggy sipped his tea. "I always had him pegged as a love shy bed wetter."

In Tooth and Nail slang a "bed wetter" isn't someone who suffers from nocturnal enuresis, it denotes a Darling whose Admin is not only inadequate bedroom wise, but doesn't want to admit it, leading to the Darling in question having to satisfy himself and thus, moisten the sheets. It's a mouthful and a rather grave insult at an Admin's expense. According to other Darlings Iggy had talked to, Dr. D's Admin abandoned their contract in favor of a new flame. No one knew exactly who – candidates ranged from a nubile Nobel hopeful and a slice of honey pecan pie. With hand whipped cream, so maybe it wasn't such a bad tradeoff. Iggy, who didn't much care for pie, found himself not caring much for the joke either. No one, not even the histrionic and generally clueless Dr. Doofenshmirtz deserved to be given the axe like that.

"Love shy bed wetters can be quite dangerous, Iggy," Friedrich warned. "Does the Society not habst dozens of laws and provisions regarding Darlings who leave their Admin's bed chamber unsatisfied?"

"Yes, _Mein Herr_," Iggy said humbly, lowering his head.

"Imagine then, being in der _Wahnzinniger_'s place, without an Admin to make him leave the bed chamber unsatisfied in the first place. Cut off from the healing power of the love magic between the rest of us." Heinrich sincerely found the thought outrageous. So did Iggy – according to the laws of the Society all mad scientists within their organization must always have their Admins close by to ensure that they stay calm and that their evil is centered on inventing things, not harming people. How, you ask? By sleeping with them, of course!

"We should discuss this further when we get to the Headquarters," Iggy concluded. "But let's not trouble Herr Ludwig just yet." Troubled and without an appetite, Iggy put his untouched sandwich back. "Oh, my teachers," he whimpered; "he's in such a dark place!"

* * *

Weird Science professor and Hardly Ethical Medicine doctor Putricius Gottfried von und zu Wittgenstein-Rottdinger looked down on the little prize cowering in a corner of his bed. So, he had abducted a novice Darling from the University's fraternity house and gotten away with it unscathed. He would not be denied this time, the beauty and pleasure one of these had the power to grant a man. The wicked Herr Rottdinger sat down on the side of the bed.

"Come closer, _Ludovico_," he demanded; voice soft, but dangerous. Ludwig crawled across the padded bedspread, eyes sparkling with fear. An hour ago he had been safely nestled up in Lemmykov's four-poster, and now he was sitting here in a strange bedroom. He knew that Doktor Rottdinger belonged to the Society as one of the higher ups. Ludwig's own Darling education was long from finished – today Queen Albert and Roux had been proud to announce that Ludwig finally mastered his Gilded Cage ABC, the very basics. So he was confused as to why the good Doktor bothered himself with a lowly novice, who wasn't even allowed to speak directly to Headmin yet. (Actually, it's the other way around – because of the rank discrepancy Headmin must address novices and Cuties through a proxy to ensure in absolute that the Darling does not do anything in conflict with his or her own free will.) Lemmykov, who was a fully-fledged Darling, acted as Ludwig's guardian, was told by Headmin that from here it would be at least another three years before Ludwig would even receive the business card of the Society's matchmaker.

"Please, Herr Professor," Ludwig insisted as respectfully and meekly as he could manage, as to not in any way imply that Herr Rottdinger didn't know this already. «I'm not supposed to leave the fraternity house unescorted. And I have a citation for accidentally leading Doktor Gemetzel into temptation when he caught a scent of my fragrant tresses. And he keeps that telescope pointer at him at all times."

Putricius' black heart began racing. "Herr Gemetzel disciplines you for being a delicious little Doonkelberry?"

"Yes," Ludwig whispered. "To make sure that my virginal beauty is never tarnished."

The professor struggled to keep his breath from rasping. "Tell me, my darling little student… How does a delicious little punch cake get their virginal beauty tarnished?"

Ludwig longed to hide under the covers of Putricius' bed, but not wanting the professor to see him as a shrinking violet, he just straightened out his short kimono nightie. "Doktor Gemetzel says that if I ever have another bed friend than Lemmykov… which isn't a problem for me, not really, no." Ludwig blushed, "Because he's so dreamy…"

"I see." Herr Rottdinger moved in on Ludwig. "You know, little student…" he suppressed his sudden flash of fury at the sight of Ludwig backing away from him. "I myself have _no idea_ what virginal beauty looks like. As opposed to the beauty I normally surround myself with."

"Really?" Ludwig found that fact very unfortunate.

"It's true," Putricius lied. Ludwig, thinking it was a real shame that a handsome Koopa such as the professor had never seen an untouched Darling before, decided to enlighten him.

As if sentient, the kimono nightie caressed Ludwig's flawless skin as it slid off him. Putricius felt his mouth water. The svelte limbs, the perfect collar bones, the iliac crest, the small, hard ankles… Ludwig was still quite young and his last growth spurt had left him a little too thin. It didn't matter to Putricius, who preferred the gaunt waif – type to the usual athletic, well-nourished Darlings. "However… I do know real beauty when I see it."

Ludwig's eyes widened even more, and sparkled. "…Y…you do?" Oh, no; this was like the nightmare he had of himself suddenly finding himself in Macabre Puns to Torment Your Nemesis – class; not naked, but worse; wearing his least stained and chemically burned coat.

"Yes…" The sight of Ludwig's peach tattoo made Putricius' deceitful mouth water. "If you are as dying to know as your sweet eyes indeed tell me… All you have to do is let me…" the professor took a deep breath as Ludwig leaned over his hands and knees, nibbling on his thumb claw. "…Assess you."

He didn't really have to "assess" Ludwig all that thoroughly to know that this little delicacy was as costly in his bedroom as on any of the certain black markets he both frequented and supplied commodities to. No, he decided to keep this one for himself. Ludwig was a Koopaling; royalty; a very rare jewel in any collection and therefore equally valuable touched as untouched. What a break.

The little novice's breath shuddered with both reverence and lust as he felt Putricius' skilled hands palpating his skin and taking extra care of the most sensitive areas. Upon feeling him positioning himself in order to expediently and satisfactorily penetrate him erotically, Ludwig had to object.

"Herr Professor, please, I'm not allowed to have my body known by an Admin yet." His words notwithstanding, Putricius was ever so pleased to hear that Ludwig's voice had gotten raspy before his own had. "Herr Gemetzel will punish me and call me a _Schlampe_." He pouted. "And daddy will be _s-o-o-o_ ashamed of me."

"Worry not," Putricius said in his most tender and dangerous voice. "In this room we are mere bed friends."

Ludwig wasn't sure if he really wanted Putricius to be his bed friend. He was handsome and really, really smart, but he had read in books for Darlings authored by the Russian chapter, that those two, even when combined, aren't necessarily strong enough bases for a relationship, not even a bed friend agreement.

He wasn't given much time to mull it over before the professor penetrated him without pity. Ludwig, who certainly wasn't blind to the beauty of his fellow Frankenstein Darlings, had been stanchly monogamous to Lemmykov as per their agreement and now marveled at how different being loved by the professor was from being loved by Lemmykov. The latter was so tender and gentle, always taking the utmost care to put Ludwig's needs ahead of his own. Ludwig had admired him for his worldliness – only to now discover that Herr Rottdinger was a whole different kind of animal. His powerful thrusts and the constant threat of having the weight of the professor's sinewy physique crush him like a bug was… intoxicating, to say the least. And maybe a little frightening.

"Aaahhh!" Ludwig felt his climax coming on in waves, each more earth-shattering than the last, and then saw himself moisten the professor's white velvet sheets. Not like a love shy bed wetter. Not like a love shy bed wetter by a long shot. Putricius had saved his own for this very moment as there was no sight more beautiful. Ludwig had wanted to curl up under the blanket and have a little rest, but not wanting Putricius to think he was a lightweight, he remained above the covers, trying to look as if this wasn't a big deal at all while Herr Rottdinger dressed himself.

"Now, then, my little student," he said, awfully pleased with himself, "Wasn't _that_ all kinds of fun?"

"Yes," Ludwig said respectfully, because it had been.

"Then what's with the face?"

Ludwig bit down on his lip. "Well… The fraternity doesn't really allow casual… dating, sir."

"Who says this was casual?" Herr Rottdinger adjusted his delightfully shiny cuff links. "You're about to start your second year and take Weird Science lessons from me." He finished brushing off some imaginary dust from his immaculate jacket, and then sat down next to Ludwig.

"I'm also taking over Gundersack's Vile Literature course; the wino. What if Head Darling Lux was told of your little… language limitation?

How could he have known that language and communication was Ludwig's Achilles heel? His shoulders slumped, but, being a sweet little apprentice and all, he was never down for very long at a time.

"You could help me?" Ludwig asked. He smiled as professor Rottdinger kissed his shoulder, but it was mostly at the thought of his scores improving.

"Of course, sweet one." Looking at the genuinely grateful little Darling seed, Putricius decided he had to have Ludwig again. He couldn't help it; he was just a man after all. "By the end of next year you'll be a regular Anthony Burgess."

Ludwig almost couldn't keep himself from squealing like a star struck teenage girl. Before you judge him, let it be said that most novice Darlings being noticed by eminent Admins would. Then imagine how one receiving special treatment from said Admin would react.

"In the meantime you'll assist me on a little… business venture." Herr Rottdinger retrieved an Erlenmeyer flask from his briefcase.

"What business venture?" Ludwig's interest piqued like a cat spotting a stack of pancakes. "Will I get credit and a fancy new lab coat?"

"Lab coat, swirly goggles, your very own demented smile, the whole nine yards," Rottdinger said as he used a dropper to extract some of the bright pink liquid from the flask. "This, my lovely assistant, is Darling Syrup."

"Darling syrup?" Ludwig asked.

"My own formula," the professor explained. "This will make it easier for Darlings to maintain their figures without having to focus too much of their time exercising and dieting."

"Oh, that sounds like a dream come true!" Ludwig was giddy with excitement.

"Yes, it does…" Rottdinger smiled viciously. "Which is why you should have the first dose. Don't worry; it has organic, gluten free ingredients and a pleasant taste."

Ludwig scooted over the now messy bed, eager to accept a sweet treat from a handsome stranger with suspicious motives. And it was sweet; sweet with a hint of maraschino cherry. He craved some more, but didn't want to be rude.

"I love it," he said. "How long before it's on the market?"

"It won't be long, I promise," Herr Rottdinger assured him. "With your help I will make it available in several different colors and forms, flavors and dosages." He allowed Ludwig to lick the dripper. "Before we get that far, however…" he rested a finger on Ludwig's sugar loving lips. "I myself would like something sweet, too."

Ludwig lay back into the professor's bed. He felt as if his life from this point on whould be spent figurng out ways to show the professor his due gratitude.

"_Ja, Mein Herr_… As much as you want…"

There wasn't a sense of Herr Rottdinger that wasn't pleased with the results of the Darling Syrup. "Splendid," he said.

* * *

Miss Marie Kittenberg did not much care for creature comforts; outside her dearest vicious white cat, that was. But this table was ridiculously uncomfortable. Even her bed had a spread on it. She was groggy, and moved her heavy head away from the bright light shining down on her. Was it the sun? Have I overslept? she wondered.

"Ah, Miss Kittenberg," a voice said. It was familiar, but not the "Hey, it's that guy!" kind of familiar; rather, the "Oh, crap; you again" kind we all know so well. "How nice of you to drop by. And by nice I mean, well, actually I _do_ mean nice, since I don't actively hate you, but by "drop by", I mean, was drugged and kidnapped by me and brought here in my Getting-People-and-Objects-From-One-Place-to-Another-Inator."

Miss Kittenberg coughed. "You mean your crappy old van?"

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz stepped out from the front of the large, dark window and into the light, looking pretty steamed for a moment, then raised his eyebrows. He was a rail-thin, lanky figure, dressed in his immaculate lab coat, these days with his fancy emblem as supreme genius leader of the Tri-State area, and for the occasion, glossy black patent leather slacks. While the general consensus was that the evil doctor was anything but conventionally attractive, Kittenberg had to admit this outfit was rather flattering on him. "Well, I suppose the paint job wasn't all that convincing. I'm docking Norm a month or two's pay."

"Why am I here?" Kittenberg retorted. "And what is it with you evil scientists and strapping people to tables? Did your mommy force you to eat broccoli?" Her breath was heavy from being pissed off. "To do arithmetic?"

She was touching a nerve, and she knew it; having attended Evil Science 101 courses at Frankenstein U at the same time as him and heard all his crazy stories. But, she thought, the longer she could distract the absentminded doctor, the longer she had to think of a plan. And judging by the shininess of his large bug eyes, she'd have plenty.

"Back when I was a child, my mother would never let me eat by the family table. You see, Miss Kittenberg, my full time job as the family lawn gnome didn't allow for long breaks. Unlike _your_ fabulous career, with your pager and briefcase, and three martini lunches," he added bitterly. "So, I had to eat my food sitting on a stool in the middle of the kitchen floor!"

Miss Kittenberg wanted to scoff, but didn't take the chance. "What's so bad about that?"

"'_What's so bad about that?_'" Dr. D parroted viciously. "My delicate little knees weren't strong enough to support a plate! So, my food would always end up on the floor, and before I could get to it, be eaten by the Shpunks. Tell me…" He pulled a lever, making the table stand upright, "Did your parents ever make you consume your lunch sitting on a stool?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No, my parents were sane and fit for child-rearing."

"You Frankenstein Darlings and your sane parents," Doof thrust a finger in Kittenberg's face, "Make me sick!"

Kittenberg would have placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, if both of her arms hadn't been put in poseys. "Before you get sick on my Givenchy, please educate me as to why you have brought me here."

Dr. D smiled venomously. "To be my Admin, of course." He was way too close to her face, allowing her to feel his cold breath on her neck. "Ooh, take me under your wing! Teach me…" He folded his large, bony hands under his prominent chin. "_Love_ me."

"Over my dead body," Kittenberg snarled and thrashed violently to tear loose of the restraints. It didn't work, but it removed her guilt over having skipped the gym the other night.

"Yeah; that's what they all said you'd say. I didn't kid myself either which is why I secured you to the table in the first place." Doofenshmirtz leaned against his impressive purple and mint green marble desk. Miss Kittenberg had only ever been the platonic Admin of two now major scientists on the Koopa Genome Project before deciding to retire from the Society. But she knew a neglected Darling when she saw one. Dr. D was jittery and distracted, as well as very irritable, more than he had ever been when attending Frankenstein's. At the last Society meeting she had learned that Heinz had been left high and dry by Dr. Bloodpudding, his Admin. She didn't know much else, seeing as she was here now and not able to attend the next meeting; the one that would have updates on this story.

"So now you're gonna turn everybody else's Admin into a lawn gnome or Shpunk kibble, or what?" Miss Kittenberg asked. Heinz looked up from his huge control panel littered with little screens, speakers and flashing colorful buttons; another gadget prized by mad scientists. "Have you read my secret -" he began angrily, but changed his mind mid-sentence, "Never mind. I will do something completely unorthodox. And by _unorthodox_ I mean _presenting my evil plan without much more ado_." He leapt down from the control center of his lab, and went over to an imposing contraption Kittenberg could only guess was a contraption which name ended in "Inator", covered by what she, again, guessed were Heinz' ex-wife's Laura Ashley - sheets sewn together.

"Behold!" He pulled the sheet off and let it pile on the floor, causing the neat-freakish Miss Kittenberg to wince. "It's the Bed-Short-Sheeting-Inator!" His subsequent wicked laughter made Kittenberg feel oddly proud. More on that later.

The circles under Dr. D's eyes tended to grow and darken whenever he felt exceptionally proud of himself, and they were doing it right then, making him seem even weirder than normal. "This device will short-sheet the bed of anyone whose name I upload into its computer, thus disturbing their sleep by them finding themselves in need of remaking their beds. Which this brand new technology will make impossible. So, its, and of course mine as well, victims will have to spend half the night finding a 24-hour furniture store and buying new beds. Before they can get even one out of their precious, precious forty winks, their whole night will have been wasted and their sleep disturbed so much they won't have the energy to feel superior to me."

Kittenberg began thrashing again. "You absolute _monster_!" Sleep is the most sacred thing to the mad scientists of this world, since all of them struggle with maintaining a healthy sleep cycle. "You can't do this! _You can't!"_

"Oh, yes, I can, Miss Kittenberg, and I will. And you will help me, like a good little beautiful assistant. Just as soon as I finish this _Punschkrapfen_," he added, and chewed his little pink tea snack diligently. "Oh, delectamalicious," he said, contented. He decided not to have another, as sugar tended to make him hyper. "Almost as good as the ones I enjoyed at the Goozim Festival as a child." He wiped his hands on a wet-nap and entered the last few names into the Bed-Short-Sheet-Inator's data bank. "Unpleasant dreams, my unwanted and undeserved superiors!"

"Wait!" Kittenberg tried once more to stall him. "How am I gonna help you? And, most importantly, why? Isn't ruling the Tri-State area with an iron fist enough for you?"

Dr. Doofenshmirtz' smile grew by a couple of crow's feet, then he shook his head. "Nah. Because I have a question with which to answer your question, _pookie_." He reached into the inner pocket of his lab coat. "How do you think your dear friend, well-wisher and employer Ludwig will feel about you smooching with the man who got him hooked on Darling Syrup and subjected him to terrible things behind that closed door? And after the slime ball's crooked lawyers got him out of prison for those very crimes to boot!" Dr. D couldn't contain a contemptuous scoff of laughter. "I get it – you ladies have your needs, but… _dayum_! If that's not an unforgivable betrayal, you can call me a _Shtumpel_. And your little tongue action? Brings a whole new meaning to 'lickety-spit'!"

Miss Kittenberg's tongue was like a lump of dough in her mouth, threatening to slide down her throat and choke her. "He… he filmed…"

"Of course he did," Heinz replied matter-of-factly with a raised eyebrow. "He was the biggest perve I ever had the questionable privilege of sharing a locker room with. He taped all of his conquests, the sicko. Including that of you."

Kittenberg didn't think Ludwig would fire or reprimand her if he ever found out what had happened between her and the smooth operator Putricius. She never normally had any romantic feelings for anyone, which was why she was seen as more level-headed and had earned so much trust at the _Dr. Wolfie's_ Frozen Foods Concern. No, she knew that if Ludwig learned of her treachery, he would kill himself out of shame.

"Do you… have any idea…" She began, but faltered. It wasn't just the sex tape; it was the unfamiliar feeling of being actually afraid of Doofenshmirtz, who was known at Frankenstein's dorm as the guy who threw rotisserie chickens under his bed to distract the perceived monsters while he climbed into it. In other words; a person in constant need of an Admin's care and supervision and not exactly first and foremost what anyone would think of as an enemy. Conquering and ruling the Tri-State area had changed him from a quirky and somewhat awkward stereotype to a very real threat gone absolutely psychotic with power.

"Yes, I do. My arch-nemesis, who's on a little vacation right now, helped me to ascertain that very conclusion." Heinz folded his bony arms. "So it's safe to assume that you know what's at stake here. What do you say?" he held her chin up with his claw-like finger, grinning malevolently. "Cleaning up after your friend's date with a harpy… Or, helping an old admirer to have some crazy fun?"

She bit her lip not to cry, which, she found out, was a pretty illogical thing to do.

"Yes." She nodded contritely. "I'll help you."

Heinz looked like a happy puppy, which was all kinds of disturbing. "It really is a no-brainer, huh?" He opened her poseys and helped her down from the steel table. "Isn't that better? If you need a little shuteye you can use my daughter's bed, which is a tad more comfortable. Don't worry; I didn't short-sheet that one." He laughed raucously at his own joke. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have a lab coat and hair bun policy that's non-negotiable. It's no trouble. It's why I invented the Lab-Safety-Inator."

The Lab-Safety-Inator was a modestly sized, but colorfully detailed ray gun, which, in one blast, provided a target with the (albeit ill-fitted) lab coat and unfashionable hair style necessary. Dr. D's eyes widened and sparkled, and his bony cheeks had an unmistakable rosiness to them. "Ahh… Now you remind me so much about my teacher, Professor Gevaarlijk," he said fondly. "Remember her? Never mind…"

He seated himself behind the control panel of the machine that didn't look like its creator was compensating for something. Not one bit. "Oh, Miss Kittenberg!" he called out in a mocking, singsong voice. "Please open the roof!"

Kittenberg resisted the temptation to instead of following Crazy Guy's orders, fire off the Tar-And-Feather-Inator, and pulled the switch to fold away the umbrella roof, opening the lair's lab to the stars above. The gentle breeze did its best to console her, but it was a little too cold; feeling more like a reprimand instead.

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz calibrated the Bed-Short-Sheeter-Inator and aimed it into the sky:

"You called me a disturbed lunatic! Well, who's gonna be the lunatic now?!" He cackled, triumphantly flexing his hands. "There will be _no_ rest for the wicked!"

* * *

**A/N: About the guest appearance in this story: I will add his name and the story to the crossover page once the story is done as to not ruin the surprise for other readers. Enjoy the rest of the holidays!**


	13. The Moon Diamond

**I also wore a strapless bikini to a waterpark once.**

**It didn't end all that well either.**

* * *

I had a vanity installed in my bedroom a little while ago, seeing as Ignatius adamantly refuses to remain in the Darling habitat, unlike Iggy, who always retires promptly after giving me my daily bread, so to speak, but not to get his beauty sleep. Ignatius climbs into my bed every night whether I allow him to or not, because he considers my side to be his rightful place. In a sane world it probably is, but it's been a long time since any of us lived _there_.

Iggy always goes to bed naked, making everything a lot easier. Ignatius on the other hand, sits in front of the vanity's mirror, has just washed his face and now applies skin caviar to his pretty little face. He wears one of his long flannel nightshirts and when he sees me enter, quickly drapes himself in an even longer housecoat. I try to disguise my glances, but don't you too doubt that his incorruptible pure mind is able to pick up on it?

After climbing into bed, I give him a dry peck on the cheek and reach for the switch on the nightstand lamp, but Ignatius takes my hand. "Not yet, Luddi."

"It's _Ludwig_ to you, and I'm tired from day of hard work. It's bedtime, for the both of us."

"Not yet," he repeats and sits up. "There's something we need to talk about."

Ah, yes. A line from ones' significant other that just can't go wrong in the bedroom.

"And what's that?" I reply, sighing.

He hesitates, but quickly gets his nerve back. "Ludwig, why don't you want to have… _fun_ with me like you have with Iggy?"

Oh, my. At least he's getting better at cutting to the chase. "What a question," I say, staggered, and then add "One we've been over before" in a slightly more authoritative voice. "You're not ready yet."

"Who are you to tell me I'm not ready?" You have deduced by now that my lovely little mint chocolate snacky cake is sexually frustrated, haven't you? I can't… But you knew that, too, and so does he. "I know of the things you enjoy together. I have seen them in my dreams."

I decide to indulge the both of us. "You have?"

"Yes," he almost whispers, and he gratefully accepts a second treat from my proverbial candy dish.

"What did you see in your little vision, then?"

Ignatius smiles coyly and blushes. "Um… It was the evening you had taken Iggy to the soirée at the Snooty Society of Snobs."

"You mean the Gilded Cage Headquarters," I correct him. He spends far too much time with the Cuties. "Carry on, please."

"Yes…" He twiddles a corner of the sheet between his manicured claws. "You took your sweet time removing your tie while Iggy removed his black and red silk." The blushing returns, a deeper shade of crimson this time. "I think you enjoyed watching him undress."

"Still your tongue!" I say, shocked at his boldness.

Ignatius giggles. "He lay down, and started moisturizing. I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't do that in the bathroom instead of risking stains on our expensive sheets. And the product he used too… It was much too oily for his scale type." Ignatius takes his cosmetics seriously. "But you must have figured that out too, I mean, when you lay down on top of him."

My mouth is dry, probably from my recent salivating. "Do you think Iggy liked it when I did that?"

He nods. "Yeah. You lay down nice and slow while kissing him. He sighed contently…" Ignatius is moved by the sweet memories and begins to open his robe in order to caress his own skin, but I redirect his hand to a pillow and resolutely button him back up, even tucking the sheet back in place. "And then?"

"You dragged your tongue down his neck, clavicle and shoulder. I had no idea Iggy was that ticklish, by the way."

"He is," I reply, suppressing my own insane need to touch certain things. "It runs in his family. Uh… Do you remember what happened next?"

Ignatius tilts his head. "Um… Not all of it, I'm afraid. I, um, thought to myself that I shouldn't be spying on your special night, but I was so curious. I wanted to see if you were gonna, you know… love each other with your bodies. Like they talk about on the after school specials."

"And did we?"

"Yeah…" Ignatius hides his face in his hands, thrilled and embarrassed at the same time. "It was so interesting to watch. I even liked it when you said unsavory things to each other."

A smile brought on by sweet memories spreads across my face. "We do that a lot, so you're gonna have to specify… Darling," I add.

He giggles. "I can't believe Iggy said _"I only ever feel complete when your dazzling crown jewels are slapping against my pleasure cave, lover"_ to your face! And all that swearing in Finnish. What was that all about?"

So, Ignatius has never experienced a climax. Awesome.

"Anyway," he says innocently, "The last thing I saw was Iggy separating his body from yours and loving your… special place… with his hand and mouth until you started swearing too, but in German. That was really sweet of him."

"It was sweet, alright," I say, as he'll never pick up on my cryptic tone anyway. I actually remember that night, because that night Iggy and I tried out a new, tickling lubricant that, according to its label, brings out more nerve endings in certain areas. It made us both swear louder and more colorfully than usual, so you can imagine that it was quite the success.

Ignatius' eyes linger on me. Oh, even more fearsome than his beauty is his power. I know what he wants. But geniuses such as meinself cannot give in to such sweet excesses, can he? But I allow him to loosen the collar of his dowdy bathrobe and reveal the silk underneath. A delightful scent of cocoa butter wafts up from his ivory scales. I lean over to inhale the fragrance deeply. Excitedly, he buries my head in his neck, rubbing it against my mouth.

"Please kiss me," he whispers. "All of me is yours…"

I flip him over on his side to treat him to one of Iggy's favorite positions. I don't remember the other forty nine right off the bat. Ignatius squeals in delight as I place my hand on his hip and lube him up, preparing to take him. "Oh, Ludwig," he tenderly mutters, "I love you so much."

My shoulders slump and I pull away from him. "I'm sorry… I just can't."

If he laughs at me and my inadequacy right now I'll blow my own brains out. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes are a mixture of pity and his own brand of kind understanding, which is actually no less searing, but at least it's quiet.

"It's alright," Ignatius says kindly. "One day you'll be ready to love the both of us. And when you do, we will both enjoy our time together all that much more."

He leaves my private quarters to stay in the habitat like a big strong Koopa.

It's amazing how fast my bed gets cold.

* * *

Godfather Heinrich von Übelkeit-Kotze showed his life partner Herr Friedrich zu Schimmel-Spitze to the couch in the back of the room as the Society assembled at the Headquarters' conference room.

"But Herr Heinrich, Ich really vould like to get a closer glance at _Der_ holograph screen," Friedrich insisted.

"That vould mean sitting in a folding chair, which is _Sehr_ unacceptable." Heinrich reprimanded as one of Headmin's personal Cuties, Pêche, came over with a padded foot stool. "_Herr Doktor_ says "Whenever _Herr_ Friedrich wishes to sit for extended periods of time, he needs to have his feet up."

The other Admins couldn't help but listening in – these, the eldest pair of Godfathers were after all ten times more entertaining than anything on HBO. The Darlings who hadn't had the privilege of being educated and cared for by them and were only familiar with them from their appearances at the Society's extra posh-ass charity galas, looked at each other as if to say_: "Who dug up those dusty old kooks?"_

As soon as everyone had found their rank appropriate seats, Iggy von Koopa walked up to the podium and activated the holographic screen. He looked frazzled and conflicted, but was composed as he presented the crisis at hand. "Darlings and gentleAdmins," he said. "At approximately 1800 hours yesterday a long time member and well-wisher of the female chapter of our great and noble society, Miss Moon Diamond Kittenberg, was captured and falsely imprisoned by none other than the nefarious Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz."

The others gasped and murmured. One of the younger Darlings had to be taken to the fainting couch. Iggy waited until the Mods had closed the doors to the swooning room before continuing. "Our brave informant, known only to us as "Herr Onkel", reports that the evil scientist has broken every treaty in our little black book and is currently depriving the Korean Frankenstein chapter of their power naps. Herr Onkel also reports that the bands on his support hose are getting limp and he needs a new pair. Will you take care of that, Herr Primel?"

He turned directly to the Cutie, who had given in to his curiousity and opened the door to catch a glimpse of the meeting he had been strictly forbidden to enter.

"Of course, Herr Iggy," Primel said and quickly vanished along with what must have been a rather large clique of Cutie maids.

"Heinz Doofenshmirtz," one of the younger, cockier Admins said pensively. "Isn't he the Darling who ran a campaign against bamboo shots in Chinese food because he believed the fruit companies were making pandas go to bed without dinner?"

"The very same, Sir Alexander," Iggy replied, "Yet very different. Being jilted by the now excommunicated Dr. Bloodpudding has had some very radical effects on Heinz' already fragile psyche. Whereas before he was harmless but somewhat of a loose cannon, he's now very determined and unstable. His fists are iron, his mind a leaky barrel of napalm. I know that sounds dramatic, but let's try to remember that Miss Kittenberg is alone with the psycho. Literally."

"Ignatius," Headmin cut in. "Of course we all know and understand that Heinz must be stopped. It's our responsibility to stop him, but you know what that means."

The other Admins began furiously debating amongst themselves once more. Because Heinz had been ditched and the effects of this on his mind so dramatic, the Society had no other choice but to place him in the Queens Of The Broken Heart ward at the Dark Star Asylum; the most dreaded ward of the most dreaded subdivision of the, you guessed it, dreaded Lock and Key Galaxy. Iggy had an old friend there. One that it was actually time for the biannual visit to.

"Although Heinz has been a very bad little Darling and is beyond a good caning nobody wants him to end up there. He needs us now more than ever."

A good portion of the Admins on the front row seats began to laugh. "Oh, dear," Sir Alexander said jokingly, turning to his neighbor. "This is what happens when we put Darlings in charge of the Society's integrity. He then returned to Iggy: "Sweetheart, your description of Doof as a loose cannon is very apt, indeed. But you know what to do with loose cannons, don't you?"

Iggy tried to keep from feeling embarrassed. After all, no Darling had ever addressed the entire assembly of Admins before. This was really Ludwig's job, but he wasn't around, now, was he? Iggy felt a little annoyed with him for a moment. "Uh, take them back where it's warm and hope some love and patience will heal their wounds?"

"No," Sir Alexander replied, quite coldly. "It's what those big ropes are for."

"That's quite enough, Danke," Leopold von und zu Dämmerschlaf-Prellung interrupted, and he was not amused at all. "Jilted or not, all Darlings are ours and our responsibility to Lieben and hold. Iggy is merely reciting this doctrine, which of course shows his genuine devotion to his fellow Schätzchen. Which is wonderful..." He rose from his seat and walked up to the holo-screen and standing next to Iggy. "...But not in this case all that _nützlich_. But, like Herr Alexander here so delicately suggested..." He glared at the latter, "Heinz is a Darling after all. Thus not _Unbeugsam _or _Grausam_. There is a way into his heart. And when sack racing and kickball fails..."

"We need to storm Doof Tower and take him down!" Sir Alexander insisted.

A Godfather with a tinsy bit shaggy fontange in his powdered wig scoffed. "Before we get within twenty miles of the place, we'll have Doofbots, Normies and MindPharms to contend with."

"Not to mention how it's impossible to tell the spies from the general Danville population from the spies," the Godfather's personal parasol holder interjected. "Yes, there _are _levels of 'impossible'!"

"I'm certain there is a way," Headmin agreed, albeit a little curtly. These many Admins; powerful and headstrong individuals, in a room could mean trouble if not kept under control. "Iggy, what do you suggest?"

"I too have a source," Iggy replied. "One that Herr Onkel also utilizes from time to time. Please give me and Ludwig twelve hours to confer with them before returning."

He peered at the crowd. "The time to act is now, gentlemen. We have no time to waste. It's been 22 hours already, and Doofenshmirtz has not made any demands. Not for ransom, or information, or for us to surrender to him. Which means there is something else he wants that she can already give him. It can't be anything but the location of Herr Onkel. Who is stationed in his spy lair right in Danville."

Finally Iggy got the reaction he had wanted. The entire assembly argued amongst themselves enthusiastically, finally understanding the seriousness of the situation. Thirty admins gave him their thumbs up, while fourteen were what you can call conflicted, not necessarily because they didn't believe Iggy could fix it, but because it wasn't his responsibility. No matter how hard Iggy tried to divert their attention by fulfilling both roles, they knew Ludwig was dodging his Admin duties.

"Well, then," Headmin concurred, "We grant you your request. In thirteen hours we will gather here to agree on a course of action. Now, let's all retire to the feast hall for some fine dining. The Cuties are serving chicken, roast beef and vegetarian chop suey for anyone not into meat. Lux, I'd like you to accompany Iggy on this trip.''

Iggy sighed, wishing they could accompany the others to dinner instead. Whenever a Darling was making an appearance at the Headquarter's functions without their Admin they all dined around the large round table, Admins at one side and Darlings at the other. Not very romantic, perhaps, but the gossip was just delicious. Lux caught up with him near the main entrance. "Iggy," he said softly. He had wanted him to remain in his circle as a bed friend, but Iggy had made it clear that his first and foremost commitment was to Ludwig. And that would take up most of anybody's schedule.

"This is a dispensation from Headmin himself." Lux handed him the embossed card with Headmin's real name signed on it. "It allows you requisition of any of the Headquarter's vessels and crews. May I suggest the BEACON-237? It looks clunky and more than a little retro, but it's faster than you'd think. It also has its own kitchen and valets."

"Headmin allows me to use this?" Iggy asked, perplexed. Normally a trip to Lock and Key would entail a lengthy journey by Warp Pipes where you could easily get lost. He had never been aboard a luxury star vessel before, much less been granted the dispensation of one.

"He gave me this permit once for a journey to Starshine Beach," Lux said. "But I came down with a case of the Victorian Novel Flu the day before I was supposed to leave. He never mentioned it after, so I decided to save it for a rainy day."

Iggy nodded. "If Doofenshmirtz decides to point his little inator this way, we'll have a lot more of those."

* * *

"Oh, Miss Kittenberg?" Doofenshmirtz called out, his voice sing-song despite its abrasiveness. "It's dinnertime! I ordered for you!"

He knocked on the door to his daughter's now mostly unused bedroom. "I hope you're not up to any funny business!" He cracked it open. "Are you decent? Oh, Heinz; you funny _malchik_! A _decent_ member of The Society!" Heinz raised a single eyebrow. "Located right next to the unicorn and the flying pigs. Oh, there you are, my favoritest little house guest."

Miss Kittenberg was flanked by to MindPharms; mindless repulsive pharmacists bred without the ability to multiply by touching bystanders. But, just to be on the safe side, Dr. Doofenshmirtz had duct taped oven mitts to the sleeves on their damp and spooky lab coats. Kittenberg had a streak of blood running from her forehead.

"But, Madame, you're bleeding! And in a way an old-fashioned man like myself dares to address!"

"Of course I am, you psycho!" Kittenberg tried to approach him, but the MindPharms grabbed her by the elbows. "I was trying to get away from you!"

"Ah, certainly." Heinz cupped his prominent chin. "Without doubt making a dash for the garbage truck and braining yourself on the double steel doors as they slammed themselves shut."

She frowned, causing the blood to drip down on her cheek. "...Yes."

The evil scientist (on the network that aired a show based on his early life and exploits the term "_**mad **_scientist" was deemed politically incorrect) brought her down to the combined hospital wing and bath and rinsed her wound with hydrogen peroxide. Despite everything, she had to admit that he still had his considerate sides. Hmm...

"These strips will keep that cut from getting nasties in it." He gently patted the surgical strips on. "I mean, I _could _try to stitch you up, but I'm just not that kind of doctor. So if I did, you'd probably end up with my sleeve on your head."

The last couple of days Kittenberg had been herded back and forth between the Bed-Short-Sheet-Inator and Vanessa's old bedroom. So when Dr. Doofenshmirtz now offered her a bath, a change of clothes and a meal she didn't have to consume in the company of drooling MindPharms she naturally became suspicious. She opened the takeout bag to find duck dumplings and eggplant parmesan.

"So, are you making a pass at me, or are you about to dispose of me?" She asked Heinz as he sat down on the other side of the purple glass table.

"Nothing of the sort, my pretty." Doofenshmirtz pointed his chopsticks at her. "Although were this an action movie, this'd be part where we'd exchange vicious banter over... Well, finer spread than this."

Kittenberg glared at him. "What?"

Heinz thought of all the action movies he had watched in his life. "Well, you would wear a fancy little black dress, revealing just enough to remain classy, and I would be enough of a gentleman to pour you wine myself."

"And, uh, the vicious banter?"

"Full of double entendres and romantic tension!" Heinz finished.

Miss Kittenberg's stare went from angry to almost filled with pity. "Ah, man. Being single does not agree with you."

"No, it does not." he concurred between clenched teeth. "Which is why I still need your help, so you don't have to worry about being disposed of like yesterday's special sauce. Check this out."

Apparently he had a Clapper attached to his surveillance screen. Upon activating it, it went from displaying a chain gang toiling in one of Dr. D's almond brittle mines to an intercepted message from - and this is where Kittenberg's noble blood froze - Herr Onkel, the Society's spy. He was standing in the middle of what she recognized as the Korean Frankenstein campus. Most of the student body was also gathered out there, ambling around like zombies.

"...Reporting now from _outside _this _verdammt _dumpster. Its teleportation device is malfunctioning again. Anyway, _Ich _am now at Ground Zero; the Frankenstein Chapter of South Korea, where the lack of sleep among the Darlings here is now taking its toll on the _Kaffee_houses and carts of the nation, as well as our _kleine _novices. Whereas before it was merely the Teavanas, which are spaced far and few between, for their "herbal" night teas, the many hipster-y coffee houses around the Korean Frankenstein campus are now facing their worst caffeine shortage since this Frankenstein's own StarCraft gathering back in '99."

A gangly Frankenstein Darling with a keffiyeh over his too big white tank top, and Dr. D - level eye bags slowly caught up to Herr Onkel. "Are you the Sandman?" he slurred.

Herr Onkel grabbed him just before he fell over, and looked back into the fuzzy camera. "Yet another unfortunate victim of the Short-Sheet-Inator, showing a desperate need for immediate action. Herr Onkel out."

Doofenshmirtz turned to Kittenberg. "I have to admit that the portable spy lair disguised as a Danville Municipal Sanitation dumpster is ingenious. I like that The Society will give me and my minions a run for our money. Otherwise, you know, my violent campaign would be pointless and boring."

He tried to restrain himself, but was unable to resist grabbing Miss Kittenberg by the shoulders and shake her. "But this "Herr Onkel" is a little too close to home even for me! And I know that you know where he is!"

Moon Diamond-sama, as her most recent Darling had called her, brushed his hands off her. "Careful, Heinz," she snarled. "Don't make me punch you in the gut while it's full of moo shu."

"I demand that you tell me! Unless you want to find that all bets are off!"

"You haven't proved that you have as much as two seconds of footage of my supposed tryst with Rottdinger. So I don't _have _to do anything!" Grasping at straws, Kittenberg brandished her plastic fork.

As if in response, Heinz took out another remote. "Well, now you're _making _me give you two options. With this I could play said footage, which has a substantial amount of seconds in it, as well you should know, on the holoscreen I hacked at the Headquarters while I was still welcome there..."

"You _are _still welcome there, Heinz," Kittenberg insisted. "Just turn yourself in, and they _will _help you, I promise!"

"...Or," Doofenshmirtz cut her off, clearing his throat, "I could reenact some of the scenes in it. You didn't touch your dinner, so maybe _that _would put you in the mood for something _spicy_."

The suggestive way he placed his hand on his chest was disturbing on so many levels. Yeah.

"That won't be necessary," Kittenberg snarled.

Doof pocketed the remote."Ah, so I'm finally earning your trust, eh?" His dark eyes narrowed. "Good. Because I'm not gonna ask you again, lovely one." He grabbed her by the hair bun and lowered his voice as he spoke into her ear. "Nope. You're gonna tell me where Herr Onkel is, so I can give him the choice of serving me either willingly, or as a braindead MindPharm. If you don't, I will mobilize all my forces in locating him... Dead or alive. And you know my forces and civilians. They just don't mix."

According to the Society's code the threat to Kittenberg's life and well-being was greater than to that of Herr Onkel, which allowed for her to... sell him out. Which she didn't feel like doing, regardless of how A-OK it was. But her own life wasn't the only one on the line. She already knew how ruthless Heinz' army was. People more innocent than her could get hurt. Also, she knew Herr Onkel well, at least from his literature. A brilliant Koopa, he probably already had a plan if he was apprehended by the enemy. Maybe this could turn out to her advantage.

Kittenberg sighed. "Behind the abandoned Rutabaga Museum." Her voice almost turned into a whisper. "There's a dumpster."

Doof patted her on the shoulder with his bony fingertips. "Well, well... I like this change in attitude. I really do. It's actually good news for everyone."

He snapped his fingers. "You got that, Norm?"

The immense robot servant came in through the sliding door. "Yes, sir. I will dispatch a Party Van immediately. They were headed to the recycling yard anyway!"

"...Excellent." Dr. D rolled his eyes. "And while you're at it, our guest needs a little lie-down. A little too much pie, I reckon."

Kittenberg had no choice but to lie down on Vanessa's bed, knowing that there was no way in hell she'd get any sleep that night. All she could do, was lie there, and look at the poster of the long-dissolved garage punk band Purple Filth, that rippled. She squinted at it, and then, as she confirmed it really _was_ rippling, she made herself more comfortable on the faux fur bedspread. It wasn't over yet.

* * *

**It's gonna snow this Tuesday. **

**Typical.**


	14. The Kitten and the Silver Fox

**There are "silver foxes" and there are "cougars". **

**Doesn't that just _gnaw away_ at a person.**

* * *

The handsome gentlekoopa raised his silver infused eyebrow at the beautiful young woman sitting across him on his deep black leather couch.

"I am of course familiar with your name, Miss, and more than impressed with your references. But I'm still not entirely sure how I may be of service."

Miss Kittenberg had talked her way into a Weird Science conference at the Headquarters to get close to Putricius Gottfried zu Wittgenstein-Rottdinger, M.D. She quickly won his trust, knowing very well their friendship could all be an act on his behalf. Six months earlier Ludwig von Koopa had opened his own food company, Dr. Wolfie's. In a very short time Ludwig ended up on Fortune 500, his enterprise competing and soon surpassing both Nestlé and Kraft Foods.

Kittenberg's own cosmetics company hadn't gone quite so well. Even after filing for bankruptcy she was in major debts, prompting her to accept the only offer available at the time; part time as a "consultant" for a media agency developing jingles and commercials - for the products she herself had once developed in her lab. She still had a standing invitation to the Headquarters despite not having the means to care for any Darlings. Also, there were mandatory soirees she had to attend. Believe it or not, it is actually possible to hate those if you feel dozens upon dozens of pitying glances bombarding the back of your head while you turn around to take advantage of the free shrimp. There's one thing you should know about Moon Diamond Kittenberg. One, that she had picked her new name because of her love of Siamese cats. The other, that she absolutely refused to be on the wrong end of a cosmic joke. Because of this, she always had the last laugh. As the next five years went, she was promoted and received a decent enough salary to pay off her outstanding debt. But while having financial security makes everything easier, and it does, she always felt that it was a dead end and a waste of her talents.

She didn't have a card to play in the world of big business, even with her Frankenstein diploma. The economy had changed dramatically from that of the golden age of modern science, when many of the other Admins had made names for themselves. The only thing even resembling an opening was knowing Ludwig from Frankenstein's. They shared three classes. She wasn't really close with him... But Rottdinger was. And so was she, having helped him develop a brand of hair color. The company that now sold the color was a subsidiary of Dr. Wolfie's. The thought of the sheer number of possibilities that opened up to her if put next to von Koopa was enough to make her mouth water.

However, Rottdinger was an opportunist - where do you think Kittenberg learned it all? Sure, they had worked together before, and while he had let her have the biggest share of the earnings from the product in exchange for all the glory, she doubted that he would help her for nothing. She had scraped together all the money she could spare. Everybody loves cash, right?

"I just want you to introduce me," she said casually, very careful not to seem desperate. She crossed her legs, and took her sweet time doing so.

"I see." Rottdinger took a sip of his scotch. "You must feel quite disconnected from your fellow Frankenstein Darlings. Graduation and a powerful career will do that to you."

She decided not to let the classic Rottdinger sarcasm throw her off her game. "Well, it takes time out of_ hooking up_ with them to talk about the good old days."

Rottdinger returned her vicious smile. "I'll bet," he replied, then rose to give her a refill of almond chocolate coffee. He offered her a Sarah Bernhardt biscuit, and instead of heading back to his own seat, sat down next to her.

_"Hooking up_ is ever so important in these lonely and troubled times we live in." He watched intently as the tip of Kittenberg's adorable pink tongue darted out to collect a chocolate flake on her upper lip. The mousse filled almond paste biscuit was like a fluffy cloud of malty sweetness. She had only had these before at the tea parties hosted by Heinrich and Friedrich. Rottdinger obviously knew the right people. As for herself, Kittenberg just enjoyed the dessert treat and how she didn't have to listen to any of the aging Godfathers' annoying lovers' banter. Ugh; they were like junior high crushes. But, she thought, they had each other. Her life was empty... But not for ling.

Moon Diamond looked back at him. "Loneliness is epidemic, Herr Rottdinger."

"Say I help, or at the very least facilitate the reunion of two acquaintances... For the price of some... Companionship..."

He could have watched her eat for hours. That's it; daddy's sugar is all for his littlest sweetheart. "You don't think I pay attention to my old colleagues? I will always care about the ones who have been helpful to me. I know you haven't been able to afford dainties like these because of your unfortunate situation."

Kittenberg pouted. "I think I clean up nicely."

Rottdinger scoffed. "Honey, as far as regular mortals are capable of understanding, you're successful." He waved his hand dismissively. "For a woman, anyway. In the eyes of the other Admins, however, you don't have a pot to piss in. Which is unfortunate for many reasons. Besides the obvious, that stalemate is a shortcut to becoming an outcast in the Society."

He saw her face and decided to change course. "Don't worry so much. Despite your bad luck you're not lacking in resourcefulness. That's what brought you back to me in the first place, is it not? And as luck would have it, I'm feeling generous today. Ain't that a change in the wind."

Rottdinger offered her another Sarah Bernhardt, and was extremely pleased with the way she ate the sweetie right out of his hand.

"Delicious," she half whispered, half growled. "I want more."

"Ooh. What a sweet tooth you have, Miss Kittenberg. Here you go..."

A big piece of one of the biscuits Fell down on Putricius' lap as he fed it to her. Would you believe it if I told you that Kittenberg sat down on her knees, leaned over and ate the confection right off his thigh? Because it's true. And very symbolic.

"Come with me," he said when he was all out of biscuits. He took her to his den slash master bedroom and let her take a look around while he rummaged through the top drawer of his imposing ebony desk. His bedroom decor was classic - if a little bit dated, with its hypermasculine steel, glass, leather and chrome details. Mounted animal heads were artfully hung on the grey walls, and a sliding glass door separated the bedroom from the minimalist bathroom, which was bigger than the first floor of Kittenberg's house.

He came over to her, holding something. "This is an invitation to the business conference hosted by the upper crust of Dr. Wolfie's. I was going... But then I received a better offer."

She reached out to accept the invitation on the eggshell luxury paper, but Rottdinger withheld it:

"This won't put you right next to Ludwig..." He paused for effect. "But it will seat you at his VIP table at the conference's banquet. Isn't that something?"

She read the embossed gold lettering. "This is too much, I mean; what do I have to match?"

Rottdinger brushed a lock of Kittenberg's hair out of her face, and smiled, this time with his eyes only. "You have more to offer than you know."

You don't think Kittenberg got what he meant by that? Because she did. She also knew that this was a golden opportunity... And that she was in way over her head. But another feeling was stirring her inner waters... Something she felt on occasion, but never thought of as important. It would not be denied this time...

She sat down on the sheep pelt on Rottdinger's king size ebony bed, with the latter in close pursuit. He embraced her from behind, removing the jacket of her peach tweed skirt suit. Her blood began rushing like soda water in her head as he turned her around and began to kiss her. The first kisses were shallow and brief, but as he removed his own jacket and embraced her again, they intensified. All Kittenberg really knew about Rottdinger's personal life was that he was said to have more experience than any other Admin known. Judging by his kisses, the rumors were true.

Kittenberg moaned softly. Despite not at all being Putricius' biggest fan, she didn't want this to end. So she opened her blouse, discarded it, and rejoiced internally at the look on his face.

Her lavender lacy bra had its clasp on the front, and she rested her hands on it. "They are not as big as your wife's..." She began. Tolerant as always, Rottdinger opened the undergarment and muttered in genuine approval.

"Gorgeous..." He whispered in awe, gently cupping Kittenberg's pale, almost shimmering domes, that while indeed not behemoth, was a round and perky pair, fresh as paint.

"Sculpted by Venus herself, for the delight and nourishment of heaven," he tenderly mumbled. Kittenberg wasn't used to compliments as most of her colleagues feared her, her ex-marine boss included. She purred as Putricius dragged his mouth down from hers, down her neck and kissed her between her breasts. Thrilled, she rubbed her shapely nipples between her manicured fingers and pushed them as close to Rottdinger's face as she could get. His wavy, silver streaked hair tickled them, until he turned and first drew upon the aggressively bristling nipple, and then, because of its convenient size, entered her whole right breast into his mouth. Moon Diamond couldn't hold back anymore and first made a series of half-choked gasps, then shuddering, gradually intensifying moans. She hadn't raised her voice since... Ever, so it sounded a little rusty, but me oh my how sexy it was.

"Harder!" She growled. "Kiss them! Bite them!"

The sight of her humbly sized but even so powerful pleasure domes going in and out of the oily mouth of one of the most reviled faculty member of Frankenstein's was too much for one person to absorb the magnitude of. Even for Kittenberg herself, who had seen a thing or two. At least she had learned the secret to Rottdinger's success.

What a patient lover he was... Is it purely a good thing to describe someone with the title M.D. and a valid medical license as a "patient lover"? Can't help but wonder if it's more than a little bit weird. Anyway, Kittenberg couldn't get enough, not even when her breasts were red and rare, shiny with her own adversary's saliva. Finally, after almost two hours of dry nursing, she allowed Rottdinger to remove her skirt. He left her garter belt, as it was kind of old fashioned and... Reminded him of simpler times.

"Are you too having lots of fun, Moonkitten?" He asked tenderly. Moon Diamond nodded and rested an index finger on her lips, chuckling coquettishly. She didn't know she could do that.

"I know I am," he continued as Kittenberg turned over on all fours, then lay down on her knees into the fluffy bedspread with her cute little butt pointing right up in the slightly leather scented air. The petite quality of Kittenberg's physical form meant there were absolutely no secrets... He saw everything, and it was beautiful. Just as beautiful as the biggest pile of dirty money you can imagine. Her intentions were crystal clear... But not even as a very young man had Rottdinger ever been out of control. Plowing was for love shy bed wetters. Minute men. You've met them.

Miss Kittenberg shuddered in disbelieving delight as she first felt Putricius' breath on her moist folds from underneath, and then his rough tongue being run over her aching vulva.

"...yes...!" She lowered her hindquarters, allowing him to apply more force, and when he did, her love starved sweet spot rewarded him with a piping hot gush of her sweet lady fluids. Two of his experienced and strong fingers found their way into her love holes while his mouth grew bolder and bolder in its desire to please her.

"Ahh! Ahh! Aaahhhh!" Kittenberg's voice became higher with each one. Being loud sure did grow on her quickly, didn't it?

Rolling and twisting his tongue and slightly bending his fingers as he penetrated her with them, he gloated as he found her little love sponge and rubbed it until the crownless ice queen climaxed, possibly for the very first time, expelling additional jets of hot, sugary liquid. Being a physician (see? Told you it was creepy!) he could feel that her pelvic floor wasn't strong enough to help produce the most intense climaxes just yet... But he would gladly help her with that.

She shuddered once more as Rottdinger helped her into his arms.  
"Herr Rottdinger..." she began. He kissed her with his deceitful mouth.

"You taste like summer, Moonkitten," he muttered into her neck before rubbing his mouth on it."

Kittenberg sat across him and leaned over to get him to pleasure her breasts again. Of course he indulged her; not doing so in her condition would probably end badly. "My, are we insatiable?" He said viciously. She just relished every second of Rottdinger's brand of royal treatment and especially the feeling of his man hammer now beginning to press against her little flesh mountain.

"Lay back," she commanded in a both raunchy and giddy voice. Rottdinger leaned against the many pillows in his bed and observed Moon Diamond sitting on the sheep pelt stark naked, with some of the white wool mingling with her dark blonde pubic hair. She only trimmed the lines, allowing the hair in the middle to curl and twist. Call Rottdinger old fashioned if you must, but... He found that incredibly arousing.

She scooted over on her knees, leaning over his proudly erect tall one. "Ooh." She looked at Rottdinger. "Very impressive. Who is he?"

Rottdinger knew that he was being treated to a side of a very unique woman that had never been seen before, and might never be seen again.

"This, my dearest, is Mr. Beauty."

Kittenberg burst into, not a giggle, but a sincere belly laugh. The good doctor was also aware of the healing power of this kind of thrill. She then turned to 'Mr. Beauty' himself. "Your mama must have loved you so much," she said, again with a lustful growl in her cutesy voice. "I couldn't have found a better name for a knockout like you myself."

Rottdinger wondered where he was on the scale after that mouthful. Corundum, if not already diamond. And you know who a girl's best friend is, don't you?

"Mr. Beauty is a very powerful and influential friend of mine, Miss Kittenberg. He has been so anxious to meet you."

"Really?" She squealed.

"Oh, yes. So much so that I decided to arrange a private meeting between the two of you. However... No business talk today. Spend some time and see how you get along first."

Moon Diamond theatrically placed a hand on her chest. "What a dream come true," she sighed.

Leaning over to make someone else's dream come true, the image of her gently but firmly taking Mr. Beauty in her hand and directing 'him' to her heart shaped mouth was permanently burned into Rottdinger's memory. Even into death it would follow him.

Rolling back that pleasure making collar, a pearly drop of Putricius' liquid gathered in it, and his beloved Moonkitten eagerly slurped it up. A taste of Mr. Beauty's wares... She would have to prove herself industrious to earn some more.

Mr. Beauty was so engorged he was beet red at the tip and slightly bent, and she could only fit one thirds of the beefy appendage in her mouth, though, but afraid to not live up to a prospective business powerhouse's expectations, she didn't complain. She hadn't counted on Rottdinger's perceptiveness.

Take it slow, Moonkitten," he mumbled. "You don't want to come on too strong."

He was right. Instead of fellating more than she could suck, she concentrated on the parts that mattered and used her hand on the rest.

"Mr. Beauty loves me, doesn't he, Herr Rottdinger?" Kittenberg teased.

"Yes!" Rottdinger exclaimed, louder than he had intended.

"Because I'm a _good _little bed friend."

He couldn't, and didn't want to hold it back any longer. "_Yes_! You're _better_ than his _wife_! She's married to her _job_!"

Rottdinger felt a wave of strange, electric pins and needles pressing against his inner levees. Mr. Beauty was glistening with pre-cum and Moon Diamond's saliva, reminiscent of a bodybuilder breaking a sunny lake surface.

All he could do now was to watch her continue to orally pleasure him - sorry; Mr. Beauty until the latter bent backwards even more and began to shoot boiling hot Rottdinger-custard, which Moon Diamond helped her sweet loving mouth to. His primal roaring of pleasure was ornamented with her soft yet desperate whimpers. A minute or so later, the pulsating spurts were reduced to a small but steady trickle, and Moon Diamond lapped it up like a cat provided with the richest cream.

Rottdinger finally caught his breath. "That must really be delicious," he said, having regained his old cockiness.

"It's scrumptious," Kittenberg purred, "But it's actually not so much the flavor as the mouthfeel." She wiped up a stray drop and rubbed it over her nipple. It immediately moisturized and soothed her raw skin.

"So, how did your meeting with Mr. Beauty go?" Rottdinger inquired.

Kittenberg had located some more love liquid and was now spreading it on her other nipple. "I like him a lot, even though his ambition can be a little... Well, intimidating. He doesn't beat around the bush much."

"Wait and see, dearest." He sat up. "I think you should introduce him to your partner. So you can all get a feeling of what it's really like to work together as a team."

"Ooh, excellent idea," Miss Kittenberg beamed.

"Coffee break is over, Mr. Beauty," she purred. "Staff meeting in two." She then straddled Rottdinger again, this time standing on her knees allowing her secret garden to hover above Mr. Beauty's head. While he was back on his feet, his collar was pulled halfway up.

"Mr. Beauty, meet Miss Muffin. She's my closest friend and colleague. We always have the most exciting adventures together. It's not a problem. You see, at my company management encourages mixing business with pleasure. In fact, it's one of our exports. But now we're looking to merge and expand our range of services."

"How very interesting," Rottdinger nodded. "And incidentally, so is Mr. Beauty. But what exactly do these services entail, and what will he need to bring to the table to make this merge into reality?"

Kittenberg lowered herself over 'Mr. Beauty' about half an inch. "He should discuss that with Miss Muffin. She's the expert on merges and acquisitions."

She then allowed Putricius to enter her with his business associate. Only there was nothing businesslike about him. Her teeth chattered as she was penetrated, and felt shotgun hail firing off inside of her. Putricius now found out that her musculature was stronger than he had thought and with its random twitches, squeezes and pulsations, had a life of its own.

"Herr Rottdinger..." She growled under her breath. Herr Rottdinger arched his back to penetrate her even deeper, and was very pleased to find that thrusting wasn't necessary, given Kittenberg and her amazing repertoire of moves. Not to mention energy. A blissful smile spread across her face and cracked her pan-cake. Smiling obviously wasn't on her daily schedule.

"Easy, now, Moonkitten." Rottdinger put his hands on her thighs. "Didn't your Admin ever teach you to make it last?"

Moon Diamond bent over while slowly gyrating her lower body in circles. "I never had an Admin."

Rottdinger tilted his head. "Oh, my. Why not?"

Kittenberg sighed. "Because..." Her voice was coquettish... And what Darlings would call _dotty_. "No one was ever good enough for me. Every time a prospective Admin came too close... I scared them off."

She accepted the invitation into his arms and for a while a series of kisses occupied them. It was Putricius' time to be pleasured. And he really was... By knowing no one had ever been this close to the frozen-hearted beauty that still haunted the dreams of her shady alumni.

"Well, Mr. Beauty is available these days... And this... Staff meeting is going so well, don't you think?"

He let her mull it over while holding her really close and thrusting until her cute little cheeks turned as red as Rottdinger himself back in the 60s. To reinforce Moon Diamond's newfound freedom, he allowed himself the release along with her.

Kittenberg rested her head on Rottdinger's sinewy but nicely toned chest, letting sweat from her forehead pour down on him. He himself had decades of experience in this field and had barely broke a sweat of his own.

"Oh, Herr Rottdinger," she muttered, "I would love to be Mr. Beauty's Darling." Raising her head and resting her eyes on Putricius, who rewarded her by very tenderly stroking her long, damp tresses.

"What wonderful news, Moonkitten." He smiled at her as she again put one leg on either side of him.

"You know, I once saw with my own eyes, how a romantic Admin/Darling relationship is consummated." She repressed a little laughter.

Rottdinger raised one of those irresistible eye brows of his. "I imagine that must have left an impression." His curiosity aroused, he cupped her dainty jaw line. "I know that a well-bred lady like yourself would never kiss and tell, but... Who did you see behind the curtain?"

"Oh, to learn that," she said jokingly, "You must choose who you want me to be. I can either be the sophisticated Miss Moon Diamond, the hard working and somewhat successful businesswoman. But she is indeed a lady..."

Rottdinger nodded in realization, "... And thus will not give me the answer."

"Indeed. But if you choose Moonkitten the streetwise and alluring lady of the night, she would give you any answers you want... For a price, of course." Kittenberg gently stroke her index and middle fingers over his lips and closed her eyes slowly as he then ran his tongue over them and sucked on them.

"In that case I daresay the latter one is just what the doctor ordered."

She hesitated for a moment. "You won't judge her, will you, Herr Admin-senpai? Just because of her choice of career?"

Rottdinger smiled like a ravenous wolf would at a stray lamb. "I assure you, I have nothing but respect for that particular vocation."

She believed that. "Well, then. It was during the annual Frankenstein fraternity and sorority's cooperation trips. That semester we attended the annual pharmaceutical conference. You know, the largest one in the world hosted in Pittsburgh every four years? On my way back from the opening night formal dinner for the international Weird Science acers, I heard a noise from the room next to mine. I was concerned, and as I approached I realized the door was open a crack." She sighed and blushed as she reminisced. "The light was off. Instead they had lit dozens of different candles. They had enjoyed some cocktails... And in the luxury hotel bed, were the current Headmin and Lux, consummating their contract. The pile driver position. Only allowed between an Admin/Darling couple after having signed a valid contract. Ooh, you should have been there. How Lux whimpered his first satisfaction. How loudly Headmin roared when he came and his china white love batter poured down Lux' tiny stomach."

Rottdinger sure enjoyed this. "Did the sweet little Darling sample this love batter?"

Kittenberg smiled adoringly at him. "Oh, he swallowed every drop and wanted more."

"I assume he got it, then?"

"Oh, yes. And as per tradition, they spent the entire night together. At some point after I dashed back to my room they closed the door, but I just opened the heat register... And fell asleep to the sweet sound of their lovemaking. They were still _celebrating_ when I woke up the next morning."

Rottdinger exhaled deeply. "That's a very sexy little story, Moonkitten. And incidentally, one that will come true for you once you sign your own contract. Mine is already signed... How about yours?"

Kittenberg allowed him once more to suck on her fingers, then she dragged them down his chest to his stomach, where she wrote her name in his own saliva.

"Splendid," he said alluringly. "And now it's time to honor our commitment."

Kittenberg giggled and squealed as her brand new Admin helped her assume the position. "I love you, Mr. Beauty," she half-growled ecstatically as she looked up to see the Darling's best friend being resolutely inserted into her soaking depths. What a contrast Rottdinger's burly, veiny flesh rocket was to Kittenberg's puffy, velvety love lips! Already she had developed a decent control of her pelvic floor and could therefore feel Mr. Beauty's bulging veins and the stiff hairs... And his heavier and heavier bag cushioning the impact of Rottdinger's sinewy weight from above.

"Aaahhhh! Herr Beauty-senpai! Rub your pleasure plum against my love pearl!"

Rottdinger, who loved spoiling Darlings, massaged Kittenberg's swollen clit, and while listening to her soft screams of "More! More!" he released a jet of pre-cum, which landed in her blonde patch of lady-parsley. It sparkled like morning dew and the sight of it made her gasp in awe and wild excitement. She gushed a little herself as Rottdinger entered her once more. This time he climaxed first - it was the heat from the forceful spray of his abundant fluids that set hers off. Being an Admin now he was allowed to reach the peak of pleasure first if he cumpensated (you heard me!) by fulfilling one of his Darling's fantasies.

After twisting and groaning the deep satisfaction of her most primitive needs and desires, Moon Diamond saw her window. "Ohh, Mr. Beauty..." She stroke him along his impressive shaft, "Miss Muffin needs some frosting..."

Rottdinger was very soon able to release another load right between his Darling's velveteen plains, and spread it out like, indeed, sweet fluffy frosting. Kittenberg exclaimed in joy as he finished the job by slapping Mr. Beauty against her delicious confection. She just had to have a taste.

"Mmm!" She closed her eyes as she licked her index finger. "Absolutely mouthwatering..." She then saw the state of Mr. Beauty. "But Admin-senpai, you are still not satiated." She pondered for a while, then remembered something that might be able to help. She took the position again, only this time separating her bouncy little hindquarters.

"Admin, this is Mrs. Cupcake," she explained. She's Miss Muffin's _bestest_ friend. I'm not too familiar with her, so if I asked you to find out if she's cool, you could, right?"

'Admin' responded by yet again becoming harder than a pipe. Kittenberg lubricated Mrs. Cupcake with some of Miss Muffin's frosting, choking laughs all the way. "She's married to Mr. Taintbaum," she divulged. "But the cheating bastard is always on these dreadful business trips. Maybe some company will make her less bitchy."

This was the most intense experience of her life - Rottdinger was penetrating her second love hole with only the bare minimum of lubrication. She could hear it was a challenge even for him, by his deep, shuddering exhales and drawn out moans that made the sheets vibrate.

"Ohh, Mrs. Cupcake!" He groaned in delight almost too strong. "Where have you been all my life?"

Kittenberg massaged her lotus, running over with honey-scented nectar. "Ahh... Ahh... Mmhhhmmm... Ahh..." The sound was just as divine as the rest of her. From time to time she slipped a couple of fingers into her available love hole, while Rottdinger was allowed deeper and deeper into Mrs. Cupcake's secret lair.

"You still have one more good load in you, Mr. Beauty," Kittenberg teased. "Don't let it go to waste, now."

"Mrs. Cupcake has volunteered to... Accept it," Rottdinger panted. "She's a decent lady... Deserves it..."

Moon Diamond was at peace with the world as she one more time felt the burning spiral of a big climax beginning to spin in both her wells of desires, and also other parts of her mind and body she had no idea they had a connection to. "Then she shall have it."

Kittenberg decided to postpone her own as best as she could, until she had seen Putricius lean his head backwards and bellow his frenzied erotic satisfaction. He sounded a little bit like a giant alligator with a sinus infection. She hoped that she herself sounded like the cutest little Darling in the world, and that he had seen the schweet three-story fountain she had squirted right up into the air. Because Mrs. Cupcake dwelled in a dryer region, Kittenberg could feel Rottdinger's fluids running as they poured into her. What a treat!

They had made love for a good ten hours, and were both finally as satisfied as they could get. They were resting in each other's arms and just savoring the afterglow of lovemaking that had been so wonderful the universe itself felt jealous.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was the best I ever had?" Rottdinger kissed his new Darling and winked at her.

"Of course I would," was Moon Diamond's conceited response. "After all, you've never experienced a more intense and powerful connection than that of Mr. Beauty and Miss Muffin."

"True." Rottdinger buried his hand in her hair. "Where are those two, anyway?"

"Right here," Kittenberg replied. "Aww..."

He softly hushed her. "Let's not disturb them. Come here..."

The new couple began kissing and caressing each other while allowing the 'others' some privacy. Underneath the silk sheets of Rottdinger's bed, Mr. Beauty was slowly, but steadily regaining strength in Miss Muffin's embrace.


	15. Mein Herrdom

Ludwig's diary, several entries

A FEW WEEKS AGO

Yesterday, after presenting the updated formula for Dr. Wolfie's Vegan Egg and Bacon ice cream, I received a call from my childhood friend and lab partner from Frankenstein's, Prinz Schnitzelheimer. He wanted me to do him a favor. Naturally, I was suspicious, after all his entire family dynasty is built and still relying upon their take first, ask later policy. Regardless, I accepted. So for the next few weeks his Darling will be here at the von Koopa Tower as my personal assistant. Apparently this Darling has a need to learn the value of earning a person's keep and the wrapping of his mind around the fact that money and fancy new shoes don't grow on trees. I have no idea what to expect... But perhaps a new acquaintance will help me take my mind off things. Yes, there's trouble in paradise. Iggy is refusing me to enter his habitat until I sufficiently overcome my Iggy-Ignatius complex to share a bed with him again. A psychotic episode is looming over my fucked up head. Aww; takes me back to my own novice Darling days. And deprived of Iggy's company I toss and turn in that cavernous bed of mine. What can an Admin do against such a vicious dry spell?

LAST WEEK

Oh, that Friday. Such a beautiful morning it was, the sun peering in through my office windows. I wasn't alone. Perched on my desk sat the most ravishing creature I have ever seen. And considering the beautiful elite that I have associated with and obviously been a part of, that's saying something. His gorgeous sun kissed face was framed in by tousled locks, the beams of the sun shone down into them, making them seem like gold. His heart shaped smile made his chocolate brown eyes seem even sweeter and warmer.

"Guten Morgen, Mein Herr," he purred and extended his exquisite, French tipped hand. "Mein name is Olaf, and I like to make hot Kaffee."

I took a few moments to shamelessly undress Olaf with my eyes. He was obviously aware of it, and liked it. It appeared as though Schnitzelheimer never bothered to show sweet Olaf the ropes of professional conduct. Iggy hadn't... Cared for me... in a while, so I didn''t blame my zealous Herrdom for rising to the occasion. False alarm, my diligent friend.

"Excellent, because we're a little understaffed at the moment. So that will be one of your daily routines. Take a note, Herr Olaf. At eleven o'clock you enter the board room to take lunch orders. Frankie always has coffee, while Nastasia wants tea. Fill everybody's water glasses before lunch gets here. Every other morning you check the plants and water those that need it." I glanced at him. "Was are you doing?"

He looked up from his box of fancy office supplies. "Putting on some sparkly awesome stickers, Mein Herr," he said with that hot-chocolate smile of his. "So it'll be easier for me to tell the weekdays apart." He returned his concentration to this task. "Okay, blue for Monday, yellow for Tuesday, grass green for Wednesday..." Later I learn that Olaf has never actually felt sad in his life - he's unable, so when life throws out road blocks he can only manage "confused". "Herr Ludwig, I don't think I have enough fingers to count the days in a whole week." He pouted, pointing that diddly-icious cherry mouth at me. So I helped the tasty twink with the counting. I myself had learned the multiplication table before my egg was laid, courtesy of Mutti. She tutored me from before I was even conceived. Impossible? Not at all, my ducklings.

TODAY

"The LaLoser snack line is doing well with the Bumblr-target group," Frankie declares as he extends the pointer to the projector curtain. Everybody's nerves are a little frazzled now that Miss Kittenberg isn't here. A brainstorming session without her is a bit cloudless, I reckon.

"But to appeal to the IFLS-target group we're gonna have to make the product extra lame. We need a mascot, not just a selling point. Maybe make the fictional spokesperson into to some forced internet phenomenon."

"Good idea," Koover half-barks. "Despite their clichéed, franchise-based fandoms, the fake geek demographic is difficult to market to, for obvious reasons."

"Think about Ratman, Star Whores, Doctor Noob and all those obligatory fixtures of modern geek culture. What do they all have in common?" I ask while making makramé out of some rubber bands.

"The logos," Nastasia says. "Instantly recognizable, in bold colors; a match made in heaven for a symbiotic relationship with the t-shirt industry."

"Catchy themes." Frankie twirls a pencil between his fingers. "In, or not, conjunction with easily learned lyrics."

I nod at Koover. "Anything else?"

"Merchandise. And lots of it. Bearing titles like "limited edition", "collectible", "not fit for rectal insertion", and so on."

"Signed by the voice actor," Frankie adds.

"Do we have a voice actor lined up?" Nastasia inquires.

"Yes..." I start turning papers. "Snotti LaBubbleButt, the swarthy beauty queen with the too black beehive."

"Oh, God," Koover grunts. And I don't blame him; the last time we had superstars for voice actors our corporate building became a Jerusalem for an equal horde of die hard fans and homicidal stalkers.

"Her agent was relentless." I raise my eyebrow at him. "Snotti's left ass cheek can no longer be seen from outer space and she's preparing for her later career by padding her resumé with a larger variety of jobs."

"Well," Nastasia says with a scoff, "Maybe that means she's learned some humility and how not to treat her co-workers like drink-bringing furniture."

"We can only hope." I collect the papers and prepare to start phase II of the meeting when Olaf enters. He's carrying the regulated beverages, but he's not wearing the regulated work attire, just the shirt and loosely knotted tie while serving my staff. He winks as Koover, who's apparently lost the ability to breathe. And move his neck.

"Thank you, Olaf," I say, and the spark of pride in his eyes reveal that he has not caught on to the stern undertone of my authoritative voice. He takes the silver tray and skips out.

"Please excuse me for a moment." I get up and follow Olaf to the staff cafeteria, where he is to polish silverware for the More Money Than Common Sense - luncheon. I'm about to knock on the door to the grocer's office, but it's already cracked.

"You're so gorgeous," the grocer mutters into Olaf's neck as he kisses it.

Olaf blinks slowly, savoring the special treatment. "Ich have a whole hour... Let's have lots of fun."

The grocer sits down on the old couch in the office, his Herrdom ever ready. Olaf's skin is covered in a light sheen of extra virgin olive oil from the kitchen. I watch as the handsome, but much older grocer expands his young lover's horizon. Olaf moans from both pleasure and pain - the grocer's Herrdom is quite a bit larger than that of Prinz Schnitzelheimer. How I know that? Hmm.

"Is that too deep, sweetie?" The grocer tenderly asks.

"No..." Olaf insists while taking deep breaths. "Now fuck me... I want to feel your love orbs slap against my tight little ass..."

The taunt, which may or may not be intentional, is effective; Olaf's lover obeys enthusiastically and dabs some more olive oil on their connected love parts. I admire the grocer's tenacity - he keeps Olaf's favored speed for minutes at a time, only very occasionally taking breaks to allow pre-cum to run off.

On any other day seeing this would simply amuse me as the couch in the grocer's office is frequented by so many couples during lunchtime I'm surprised the piece of furniture doesn't have its own family of little couches by now. But the drought Iggy has condemned me to, well; it's all I can do not to ask if I can join Olaf and someone so far below me I never bothered to learn their name. Later edit: Turned out to be Grossman.

Olaf returns to the Tower ten minutes before his lunch break is over, hair still damp from the shower he probably took in Herr Grossman's office after their little tryst. And if I'm not mistaken, he's wearing his lover's shirt.

"Herr Olaf," I say as he prepares the Kaffee tray for my two o'clock with the Haterade attorney. He puts the tray down and looks at me with those eyes, oh my Grambi; Iggy's islands of icy turquoise have found a challenger in Olaf's pools of warm amber.

"Yes, Master Ludwig?" He takes a seat on the bench, crosses his slender, sun-kissed legs and casually rocks his mary jane - clad foot.

"Uh..." I clear my throat. "I'll cut to the chase. Olaf, here at the von Koopa Tower we have a dress code."

"Really?" he asks theatrically as he's now inspecting his hair in his clamshell mirror.

"Yes; suits and ties for the boys, skirts, blouses, jackets, shaved legs, stockings, high heels, manicures and makeup for the girls. Didn't the Prinz go through the rules and regulations with you?"

Olaf ponders my question, perhaps seriously. "Well... He said something about rules, but... Mein Gehirn reacts to the word ju-u-u-u-st like it does to a big, pink sleeping pill with a smiley face on it. Just like you react to the word "austerity", I hear." His heart-shaped lips form a cruel smile. He scoots down from the counter and approaches me.

"I took the liberty of cancelling your meeting with the Haterade guy-"

"What?!" I interrupt. "That was the most important meeting this quarter! You..."

"Shhh, now," Olaf mutters and places an exquisitely buffed and polished finger on my lips. He wears one of the Society's many rings of power; a silver ring with a modest, diamond shaped turquoise. I'm impressed; he's a Tooth and Nail Darling after all! The ring, a token meant to protect him from being subjected to hazing without just cause, sparkles in the sun.  
"This is so much more important. More important than soft drinks, TV stars that aren't that pretty and should cut down on the selfies, and the Prinz' attempts to eradicate my accent."

"What?" I ask from behind his finger.

"Yeah; Herr Prinz wants me to develop this mid-western American accent and become the brainless little upper class twit a honey like me should be. But I'm just not that guy." Olaf giggles. "I told him that, and after caning me, he gave me a new little project."

He helps himself to some water from the cooler and offers me some from his cup. I take it. I love water when it doesn't taste like those herbs that Herr Professor put in it... When I was young and aching.

"Please sit down," he says and guides me to the most comfortable armchair in the lunch room. He seats his waify self on the armrest and puts an arm around me.

"My mother is a Cutie, and my father is the Grand Prinz of Mazarin, the kingdom that gives us slapstick and those delectamable almond tarts with sugar glaze. That makes me the half-Cutie, half-dainty Herzog of a tea snack empire. You know what else it makes me?"

I gaze upon him. He's not a little plaything with freakishly flexible joints at all, so I decide to play along with his delicious mind game.

"Please tell and by doing so enlighten me," is my reply.

Olaf blushes, and the sight of it soothes me, like the charm of Cuties do. Even if his heritage is limited to a noble title and some select genes he's still a conduit for the love magic endowed upon all those signing the sacred Contract.

"Capable of always knowing who and what other people love. For instance..."

He tilts his head and gives me a sweet smile, allowing me a glimpse of his sparkling, but adorably crooked teeth.

"You didn't hear it from me, but did you know that Miss Moon Diamond is hopelessly in love with you?"

My eyebrows almost fly off my head, and I choke on the sip of water I just took. "Wha-? How do you know that?"

"I just do. All Cuties do. But they don't know that they know, and because of that they think that's the way the world is and act accordingly, like the Prinz says." His large eyes become dreamy. "Oh, I love the Prinz so much! Anyway, I see it too, but I understand it because I can use attraction."

"You mean abstraction," I correct.

"That's what I said. And the love magic enters my dreams if I'm a very good little Herzog, gargle with mouthwash and go to bed before nine, it tells me all kinds of things about those I love. And I love everybody, because that's what Cuties do."

"And everybody loves you, Olaf," I respond, because his loveliness is filling me up like a bowl of hot soup on a cold day.

"That's sweet," he replies while playing with my tie, "But it's not entirely true." He slides off the armrest and onto my lap. "Some; most actually, only love my good looks and, uh, let's call it diligence between the sheets." He giggles again. "The only one who ever really loved me unconditionally was Mamma. Dear Mamma was s-o-o-o sad when that big, creepy Admin with the red hair with silver in it took me away and gave me to Prinz Schnitzelheimer."

"Wait a minute." I frown while trying to recall... "Red hair with silver?"

"Yeah, and a gold ring with glass in it around his eye. Apparently he's the go-to Koopa if you want to score some Cutie. Anyhoo, Mamma cried and begged my father not to sell me. He could have all her pretty dresses and jewels and crown back if he only let her keep me. It was so sad. Daddy was so cruel. He is a rather cruel man, you know. But not as cruel as others."

"The Prinz loves you, doesn't he?" I ask. Surrounding myself with very young Darlings has made me softer than a peep in a microwave.

"To the degree he's capable. But this isn't about me. Luddi..."

Only Iggy is allowed to call me that, and I dare say he knows it. He may be blithe, but he's not an idiot.

Olaf holds both my hands. "It's not wrong that you love Iggy the way you do, or that you love Prinzessin Lavender, Queen Albert, and Miss Kittenberg also."

"Miss Kittenberg is just a colleague of mine!" I insist. "She's been my marketing officer for five years."

"She's got a pretty face, doesn't she?" Olaf teases. "Those gorgeous eyes..."

"Well," I hesitate, feeling warm inside for a moment, because, well... Then I quickly clear my throat. "She is indeed one of my best friends. But her romantic feelings for me..."

"...Are returned," Olaf finishes and nods his pretty head. "But we're digressing once again. Did you know that a kiss from a Cutie can help heal an Iggy/Ignatius-complex?"

No, I did not. I've left most of the care of these creatures to Iggy, and as he is no bigger romantic than I am, it's doubtful that even he knows it.

"It's another thing the Cuties aren't aware of," says Olaf.

Something strikes me. "How many powers do Cuties have that they're not aware of?"

Olaf just smiles. "I don't know." But the sparkle in his eye tells a different story. "It doesn't take it away like a karaoke champion does an 80's pop ballad, but it helps. Think of it as a tinsy bit stronger infusion of love magic. The next time you see your beloved Iggy, you will be reminded of why you fell in love with him in the first place. Or something sappy like that."

He kisses me. And while it certainly is amazing; like drinking a sunrise, it's nothing like Iggy's kisses. And then it hits me - it isn't like Iggy at all. Nothing in this world can compare to him. And that's why..."

"Now there's a "deodorant in the machine" for you!" Olaf declares with a happy smile. "Enjoy."

I hug him, and maybe he can feel that my gratitude is genuine, because he returns it with a happy little squeal. He then shakes his head and tuts jokingly.

"Admin-sama, Headmin has let you get away with a lot, because of what that bad Admin did to you. But..." His eyes keep me transfixed, in my place like a novice Darling on his first day at Frankenstein's Room 101. "Your little problem is causing you to neglect Iggy. And no one at the Society will take kindly to that. If you don't do something, the other Admins will punish you." That's one devious smile. And it terrifies me; that's how powerful love magic is in its pure form. No wonder Cuties make friendship bracelets for their own shadows. "How would you like to..." he pauses for effect with great success; "Clean your room yourself!"

"Oh, no!" I grab my beautiful sapphire powdered locks and pull them. "I will better myself, I promise!"

"Make good on that promise, now, or I'll be back..." Olaf raises a delightfully blonde eyebrow, "... With a vacuum cleaner and trash bags!"

He then gives me his little black book, which is actually more like a phone book, containing his considerable list of bed friends, and something else, which he puts a heart shaped bookmark in.

"This information will serve you well. Not now, but..." he winks at me, "One day very soon. When you will also learn that there are worse things than having to clean your own room."

"I will?" I ask.

"It depends on how you see it. But don't worry about that now. You have more important things to do."

He's very right. So after his Na-Na and personal driver comes to take him home, I actually leave my briefcase at the office and go right home to my sweet Iggy. He's in his art studio, working on a snooty, highfalutin' oil painting for the annual Schwülstigen Kunstfestival in Zürich. So profound and steeped in mysterious beauty. The painting is also nice. I've never noticed how sexy he is in that smock; long and loose with tears and paint stains. His hair is also loose and dishevelled, and he has paint on his face.

"Good afternoon, Darling," I say, loosening my tie.

He turns around, obviously surprised to hear my voice in this room, which I rarely enter unless Primel makes me. "H... Hi, there, my Admin," he stammers. Oh, my. He's never been more beautiful than he is right now.

I just glide right over to him and lift me up in his arms before giving him a kiss, something I haven't done for weeks. He swoons, and the Cuties in the workshop mixing paint colors giggle and hide their faces. "What's gotten into you?" he asks

I kiss him again, and feel the warmth Olaf reintroduced into my heart tingle me on the inside. "Oh, Iggy-darling," I mutter. "Can you forgive me?"

"For what, Admin-senpai?" Iggy's eyes are nothing but kind.

"For neglecting you, letting my beautiful insanity come between us, and making fun of your painting."

"You never made fun of my painting, Luddi."

"I'm about to. What is it anyway; two trees making prune juice?"

"I see." Iggy places both his arms around my shoulders as I'm holding him. "Rest assured, my Admin, that I will always choose you. No matter what."

We retreat to my very clean room seeing as it's Primel who cleans it, for now at least, for a long night of... catching up. I prove myself right once again; nothing can quite compare to Iggy's touch. All my clothes except now buttonless shirt undone, I embrace him from behind as he climbs up into my bed, planting lo-o-o-ng wet kisses on his shoulder blade.

"Take me!" he orders. "Take me now!" I do, because our little dry-spell has been just as hard for him as it's been for me. He sits across me, facing me as I thrust, very obviously resisting the urge to laugh in hysterical ecstasy.

"Just let it out, my Darling," I growl. Iggy takes this to mean go ahead and climax, because he does; smooth, hot, glossy, all over my happy trail. "Oh, Iggy," I mutter as he just sits there, sweating, breathing heavily. "Promise me that you will always be able to sit upright long enough to moisten my sheets."

His head is tilted backwards, but still I can see him smile. "Certainly, my Admin, certainly..." He sighs and without dismounting me, lies down on top of me. I fall asleep, enjoying the rest of an innocent. But when I wake up, Iggy is already dressed.

"Where are you going, Iggy?" I ask, sitting up into my pillows.

Iggy unravels the towel on his head. "Ludwig..." He sits down in the windowsill. Some wet snow falls off the wrought iron mullions; spring is on its way. "I have been entrusted by the Society with the task of rescuing Moon Diamond."

"Miss Kittenberg," I correct. "And that is absurd."

"Maybe," he replies, and a glimpse of defiance sparkles in his eyes. "But I've been serving your function at the Headquarters while you were indisposed."

"But I'm better now," I insist, because this is about as sane as I get, "The burden is on me. Let me do it."

"No, Ludwig," Iggy replies, a little more firmly this time. "You will help us save her, but in a different capacity. As you can see I've put on my armor. And here..."

Out of nowhere, seemingly, he pulls my old labcoat. So many things... flash before my eyes...

"... Is yours." He throws it over to me. "Put it on."

I obey him. The old white coat smells like... me. The old me. The beautiful, young Ludwig I used to be. The one who was on a first name basis with the entire night shift at the 24 hour fast food joint. The bane of every dentist in the tri-kingdom-area. The brilliant Wunderkind who used to pull large switches and boom: "Mad enough for ya?!"

"That's the Ludwig I fell in love with," Iggy explains. "When the joy of creation AND destruction gave your life meaning, and not just profits and products."

I smile at him. "I see that Herr von Prellung's teachings have had an impact."

Iggy nods. "They have."

We kiss goodbye in the courtyard before he gives me a key to a door in the castle that hasn't been opened for years. "I hear you've adopted Olaf as your new assistant?"

"Yes," I respond. "He's been helpful in ways I never imagined."

"I bet." Iggy winks. "Professor von Prellung is after all not the only one who knows good literature."

Iggy's driver opens the passenger door to his personal Town Car and bids him good morning as my Darling steps into it. "Think about it."

I take the book and key before walking down to the basement. In the days of yore there was purplish lightning bolts between the Tesla coils and not cobwebs. The beakers had all kinds of funny chemicals in them, and not just dust and dead bugs. I ring for the Cuties.

"Mein Schatzi, it's time for a good spring cleaning," I declare, and they couldn't be happier. Donning their little white trainee coats and hats, they clean up the lab so fast I swear they're able to speed up time.

"Teatime?" Vetiver asks while tugging on my sleeve. He's holding an assortment of clean beakers.

"They go in the cabinet by the jacob's ladder," I tell him. Even Iggy has given up on teaching him how to talk at this point. The important thing is that he understands what others say.

When the lab is finally spotless and the Cuties are busying themselves updating the machines and mixing together the everyday chemicals, I go over to my personal work table, under the window with the bookshelf. I take down two of my favorites; How to Eat Cat and Weird Science for Mad Scientists Of All Ages. Then I remember the book Olaf gave me. It appears as though I have a brand new addition to my book collection, one in leather binding to boot; Technicolor Science: The Cinecolor Edition. As I lift it up to place ot on the shelf, a tattered piece of paper flutters out of it.

"Well, well, well," I say after unfolding it and closel studying it. "This is mad enough for me."


End file.
